


Generically Speaking

by TremblingHandsWriting



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: KrisHo - Freeform, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TremblingHandsWriting/pseuds/TremblingHandsWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When they say "I love you," don't take it personally.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Junmyeon started to formulate the theory about love; that it is, maybe always have been – generic. There is nothing personal about love like the soap dramas or sappy love movies or romance literary are feeding us since forever. Yes it is unromantic, cold even, but the fact is we can only really love the person who fits our idiosyncrasies. And if that person somehow doesn’t, reasons will naturally emerge for us to deny the chemistry until one of us gives up.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A few years ago, during his first year of university, Junmyeon was dating a girl named Hae Ryung.

Physically, Hae Ryung was 5'3 tall, with single eyelids but small smiling eyes. She was a brunette and the last time they saw each other, she had her hair loosely curled at shoulder length. Her gum showed when she smiled, and Junmyeon still remembers the way her eyes disappeared behind her cheekbones as she beamed. Well, to be honest, it was because of her smile that Junmyeon couldn't let her out of his head for a few months before he mustered his courage to confess to her.

Junmyeon never tell Hae Ryung this, but she was the first relationship Junmyeon ever had, if it wasn't love, and he was very afraid of being alone back then. She was very cheerful and never knew when to stay still; really, he can't really pin down the numbers of night where he lose his sleep just because Hae Ryung wanted him to be her inspiration for her Renaissance-themed assignment  _(she was majoring in Historical Arts)_. She would drag him everywhere on Sundays and sometimes Junmyeon would find himself staring at his ecstatic girlfriend who was capturing every moments that she thought would fit in her photo albums with her Polaroid camera, thinking about what he would probably do if he was a single man right then. Most of their dates were decided with hae Ryung's spontaneous  _(maybe a little bit abstract)_  thinking, ( _'hey, hey! Let's do the beach today! Oh the mountains are calling, can you hear them baby?'_ )

At first, Junmyeon thought of them as fun, although pretty unexpected road trips, and there were no harms in traveling around the country ( _though sometimes his student pocket wasn't that ready for it_ ). After all, it was only him and Hae Ryung without any disruption. The road trips were memories made only for them lovers, and secretly, Junmyeon likes collecting small moments like these. Of all the things that people could have forcefully taken from you, memories are yours completely. Junmyeon would at least spent six days in a month just for Hae Ryung's antics, and he liked the way Hae Ryung's eyes lit up whenever he agreed without much question to wherever she decided to go.

But then, second year of university was violently approaching, and as a university student who was among the top scorer during the entrance examination, Junmyeon was trying his best to not to repeat any subject he was taking for the current semester, so his life became scheduled.

He counted the minutes before he needed to sleep, he took  _breakfast-lunch-dinner_ time seriously because those were the only times he had for rest, and if he happened to woke up earlier than his alarm clock, he quickly shut his eyes and subtly counted the seconds before the alarm clock start beeping like crazy. Naturally, the time he spent with Hae Ryung became lesser, and his girlfriend's joke about him becoming too boring to hang out with  _(at which he would usually laugh at and let go)_ finally was not funny anymore. A couple of weeks before they broke up, Hae Ryung went to Yudal Mountain to catch the sunrise with her other friends.

It was that day when Hae Ryung casually sent him photos of the sunrise and her friends, showing how happy she looked even without him there, that Junmyeon started to formulate the theory about love; that it is, maybe always have been –  _generic_. There is nothing personal about love like the soap dramas or sappy love movies or romance literary are feeding us since forever. Yes it is unromantic, cold even, but the fact is we can only really love the person who fits our idiosyncrasies. And if that person somehow doesn’t, reasons will naturally emerge for us to deny the chemistry until one of us gives up.

Hae Ryung's style of expressing love manifested with the way she brought people who are special to her to places that she thought about randomly. Junmyeon was sure about this, because other than this slightly worrying habit of hers, Hae Ryung was actually a girl with a lot of things planned thoroughly before execution  _(he had the chance watching her planning an annual event for her faculty and it was perfect)_. So in a way, the first few months of their relationship when Junmyeon was brought almost half across the country by her proved that at a point, Hae Ryung was really in love with him  _(or believed to be in love with him)_ , because he was reciprocating the generic love Hae Ryung was giving him with the way it should be. Junmyeon started to wonder if the love had begun diminishing if she finally went to the places she loved with someone else. Maybe it did. Maybe their generic love just didn't match. He could only deal with her way of expressing love for so long, and it seemed that the way he reciprocated it just wasn't enough.

He then spent the whole day thinking about Hae Ryung and her beautiful smile _(and puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit together)_

A couple of weeks later, Hae Ryung was apologising to him with another man by her side; a senior from her major. Junmyeon knew that guy; he was among the friends whom climbed the mountain with Hae Ryung in the pictures she sent him. Junmyeon wanted to be angry, but he felt as if he didn't have the right to do so. He wasn't able to reciprocate Hae Ryung's way of expressing her love  _(because he couldn't find in every bone inside him the importance of going on random road trips with his girlfriend better than getting the perfect results in university)_ , and it wasn't anyone's fault that their relationship came to an end. To be honest, they might've been a couple just by the name since months ago, but his ego and his fear of being alone didn't allow him to say that out loud. Telling her “it’s okay,” and “I hope you’ll be happier than you were with me,” he patted Hae Ryung’s cheek; a habit he developed almost a year they were together, only to have his shoulders pulled forward and Hae Ryung’s lips on one side of his lips.

“I loved you, Junmyeon. I really loved you. So love someone too, okay?” she said, and Junmyeon was still trying to figure what she meant by that as he saw her back disappeared behind their apartment’s door.

It was a short but very interesting relationship with Hae Ryung, and even though he couldn't admit it, but with her missing from his bed at nights, the fear of being alone once again slowly crept on his skin. There will be no one like Hae Ryung after this, Junmyeon admits to that, but slowly, the theory he formulated towards the end of their relationship was stuck inside his mind, and his next relationships were analysed, deducted and determined naturally using this theory.

 

-

 

The basic idea of this theory is simple –  _your role is replaceable._

Take Junmyeon's third relationship for example. He was only a junior interior designer by contract at that time despite having been graduated for almost four years, still struggling to become a permanent employee in an incessantly growing development company. His girlfriend at that time, Ah Jung, worked at the front desk.

Ah Jung was a sweet girl in her early twenties who didn’t talk much  _(but very outspoken)_  and usually giggled instead of laughing. She was a 5’1, smaller than Hae Ryung, and definitely smaller than Junmyeon’s second lover  _(it was a man)_. Ah Jung’s hair was black, thick and shiny, and Junmyeon remembers helping her tying it up into a bun every night before they went to sleep because it almost reached her waist by then. With Ah Jung, Junmyeon developed a new habit of fiddling with the ends of her hair using the fingers on his right hand  _(because he usually slept on the left side of the bed)_ until he fell asleep.

Junmyeon was attracted to Ah Jung because of her big brown eyes that were glancing at him during the company’s dinner night which was held especially for the new recruits. Thinking that he might only have tonight to approach this girl, Junmyeon made a move  _(a piece of cake in one hand and a full beer bottle in another)_ , but he was stopped midway when a sunbae walked past him and towards the same girl. Dejected, he turned on his heels, trying to find a quiet corner to eat his heart out on the cake he had on his hand. Stuffing his mouth with the cake while staring far out of the window, ignoring the crowd that started to get rowdy behind him, Junmyeon was startled when a soft voice greeted him.

“I thought that was for me. I guess I was wrong,” the girl said as the opened window let the night breeze blew her long hair softly. Junmyeon almost choked on the cream but he quickly gained his composure and held his breath in.

“Well...” he took a few seconds, memorising where he was and what he should say, when Ah Jung grabbed his spoon and took a bite of the unfinished cake.

“Not bad,” she commented, “although it’s a tad plain. I can do better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So, what’s your name again?”

With Ah Jung, Junmyeon realised that her idea of affection was through food. It wasn’t in a sense that she was great in the kitchen or anything, although Junmyeon do acknowledge that she was above average in cooking. If Junmyeon has to come up with a title to describe Ah Jung, it would be ‘ _Great Scooper._ ’ Ah Jung portrayed her love towards someone with the portion of food she handed to them. Junmyeon figured this out during their third date when Ah Jung invited him for a dinner at her apartment. There were a lot of dishes and his plate was full, but he particularly remembers having a mountain of mashed potatoes as one of the menus. It was the start of an abundance of mashed potatoes or extra bowls of rice or a plentiful of grilled meats in his plate every dinner night when they started living together, actually. Ah Jung never asked whether he wanted more or was it enough  _(a third plate was already burdening, to be honest)_  and Junmyeon somehow didn’t remember to remind her to ask about it first. Because Ah Jung was a little sensitive and Junmyeon couldn’t risk another relationship after the first two failed.

The relationship started to move in a downward spiral when Junmyeon was finally a full-time employee and Ah Jung decided to continue her study. It was always in her plans, anyways. She wanted to become a journalist, and she couldn’t have that achieved if she was only a high school graduate. She mentioned about it the day Junmyeon moved his shoes and books into her apartment, and Junmyeon told her that he was cool with it.

“An ambitious girlfriend is always a good thing,” he assured her, and Ah Jung promised she would still cook whenever she can. So three days after they celebrated their six-month anniversary, Ah Jung enrolled for her first semester in Journalism at a local community university, and Junmyeon got his first important project.

It was university and Hae Ryung all over again, if you asked him. Sleepless nights, outstations and meetings, weekends that he missed due to sponsorship-searching made them grew distant. Junmyeon’s life had once again become scheduled, and Junmyeon never tell anyone about this, but he probably likes it that way. There is always that sense of control when you are early for your meetings, as if you’ll be able to perform better and become more prepared. Junmyeon had this thought throughout the years he spent hunting for jobs; he’s just another typical white-collar employee produced by the country through the financial security and stable pay checks, and he prefers it that way.

Ah Jung on the other hand, was enjoying the busy life as a university student for the first time. Study nights, group assignments, and those gatherings to celebrate finished paper works were really keeping her plates full. The nights spent to cook were almost non-existent by the time she had her mid-term break, and even if she did, Junmyeon wasn’t able to come home anyways.

Junmyeon’s theory once again occupied his mind the last night they had their dinner together before the breakup. Ah Jung was, as always, scooping out big scoops of mashed potatoes into his plate and Junmyeon liked the way she put her hair up in a bun, cheerfully telling him about the psychology class she had that week  _(because she had been dying to tell Junmyeon about it since forever, and Junmyeon was never home)_. It was a rare moment to see Ah Jung getting so worked up in their conversations, so Junmyeon let her had her moments, until she scooped out another heap of mashed potatoes into his plate when she saw him finished the previous one. Without thinking, Junmyeon told her casually;

“Please don’t automatically give me more food without checking first to see if I want more.”

“Ah, sorry.”

Junmyeon was surprised to hear how old and controlling he was as he said that. Was he really comfortable enough with the relationship to be mentioning the obvious towards Ah Jung by then? Maybe he was, or maybe it was because of the times they were not together that pulled them apart. Maybe he was just losing his ability to sync in with Ah Jung’s idea of reciprocating affections. Ah Jung was quiet for the rest of the dinner, letting her story unfinished and till this day, Junmyeon can’t remember what she was talking about. Maybe he wasn’t even listening back then. There was no more dinner after that, and Junmyeon had his lunch and dinner outside most of the times. He didn’t even bother to have breakfast anymore.

Two months later, they both decided that there were no more strings to bind them together, so after their last kiss, Junmyeon moved out of Ah Jung’s apartment and wished her good luck. Ah Jung smiled and with a twinkle of tears inside her eyes, she told him to take a breath sometimes from his work, an advice at which Junmyeon nodded understandingly.

Three years later, Junmyeon received a wedding invitation from Ah Jung. He couldn’t attend it since it was on the same day as a conference he was apparently unable to avoid, so he phoned her instead to congratulate them. She was having dinner with her fiancé, so Junmyeon thought he would call another time but she said it’s alright, since Junmyeon might be too busy for another call after this anyways  _(somehow that word pricked his heart deeply)._  They were talking about Ah Jung’s profession  _(she was a columnist in a food magazine then)_  when Junmyeon heard her fiancé called out;

“Darling, another bowl of mashed potatoes!” and Ah Jung finally excused herself from the phone.

Again, Junmyeon got it:  _love is generic_. True, there might be other charms on her fiancé that made her happy to be with him, but Junmyeon was sure that one of them was the fact that he was probably a potatophile. Just like how Hae Ryung needed someone to be dragged along to random places at random times without retaliating, Ah Jung needed someone who would accept her enormous pile of frenzy feeding and ask for more. It’s sad, and possibly pathetic of him to think about it this way, but maybe the next time he’s in love, he shouldn’t really take their  _‘I love yous’_  way too personally. They would probably love anybody in his position.

 

-

 

He didn’t deny it when people asked him about his relationships; yes he dated three times so far, yes the second one was with a man. But usually, if people were being vague about their questions, he left out the stories about his second relationship on purpose. Not because it would make the audience flinch and question his sexuality instead; hey he had always been comfortable with whichever ship he’s sailing. But it was hard to tell stories about the relationship that maybe, just maybe was the closest he could get with the idea of  _‘true love.’_

Junmyeon’s second relationship was more of an accident: unexpected, unwanted, a result of a reckless behaviour but hard to forget, unless you got knocked on the head.

Junmyeon was in his final year during the time he met Yifan; a young self-acclaimed, free-spirited cartoonist of some sort. He was struggling with internship and job-hunting and final projects by then, so falling asleep in a café where students from his university usually frequent was not much of a deal. Yifan was doing a part-time job waitressing at the said café while trying to get his comic strips compilation about a lanky alien from another galaxy who found the meaning of life with fried chicken _(Junmyeon swears Yifan was one of the most eccentric people he ever met)_  published in paperbacks, so it was only natural to see each other on a daily basis.

Yifan was 6’2 tall, a giant when compared to Junmyeon  _(he is only 5’4)._ At first, Junmyeon hated the fact that he had to look up as Yifan was telling him the total amount of his coffee and breakfast over the counter whenever he was on cashier duty. Yifan’s eyes always looked like as if he was laughing at Junmyeon’s height while he waited for him to hand the cash. Junmyeon also envied his huge hands with perfect fingernails and slender fingers when he handed him the change. His hands were terribly inferior when compared to Yifan’s, and Junmyeon had always disliked how crooked his fingers looked like next to Yifan’s straight and perfect ones. Junmyeon would quickly grab the change and walked out from the café before Yifan had the chance to say  _‘thank you and come again!’_

Despite seeing each other almost every day at the café for several months, the first time they really talked was on the night of the last Saturday before the due date for Junmyeon’s final project, which was on Monday. He was all set with his laptop and Americano at his favourite table; the one in the corner near the huge window panel, just a few steps away from the cashier’s counter. Junmyeon liked the spot because it was near to the power source  _(because he could never trust his laptop’s battery)_ , and no one would be sitting behind or beside him since the seat was attached to a wall; a perfect place to sit for anyone who wanted to avoid unnecessary social convention in crucial times like this. He also felt relaxed enough because Yifan wasn’t working on Saturdays, which meant he wasn’t going to be distracted by that particular waiter with superior height and look walking around the tables, enchanting everyone with his gummy smile  _(he did thought about Hae Ryung sometimes when he accidentally saw Yifan’s smile)_.

But boy was he wrong.

He was doodling in AutoCad, putting finishing touches on the final blueprint for his futuristic Victorian-themed café complete with laundry  _(he was still amazed that his supervising lecturer approved his initial design)_  when he heard the rustle of someone’s leather jacket squeaked against the seat in front of him. Without looking up from his screen, Junmyeon casually told the stranger;

“Seat’s taken. Go find another one,” while gesturing his free hand in the air, shooing the intruder away, only for it to be caught between two huge palms with pretty long fingers. Shocked, Junmyeon looked up, ready to yell at whoever that was disturbing his alone time, when he saw Yifan observing his hand with a great interest.

“What the hell? What are you doing, dude?” he said, trying hard to pull his hand away but failed. He didn’t know why but his eyes were involuntarily following the way Yifan’s fingers caressing the back of his hand, and it felt really hard for him to not to like it.

“Ssshh... I’ve been contemplating whether I should do this or not for a while now, so just give me a few seconds,” he said, eyes still on Junmyeon’s hand. When he put their palms together, comparing the obvious difference in size between them, Junmyeon felt even more inferior, especially when Yifan proceeded to slide his fingers in between Junmyeon’s.

“You have really small hands,” he finally said when Junmyeon forcefully pulled his hand away.

“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious. Now scram or I’ll report you to your manager for sexual harassment,” he threatened under his breath as the fingers on his right hand continued to dance on the cursor pad; really, he should’ve brought the mouse. AutoCad was always a bitch. Yifan laughed at his threat and raised a hand, calling his fellow colleague to order a drink – a short guy with chubby cheeks and round eyes slowly walked towards them with a mocking grin and Junmyeon started to regret coming here tonight. He just wanted to be left alone to finish his work, goddamn it!

“A Coke for me and since he already ordered a drink, just a powerful cheer for my hardworking date here, please,” he cavalierly ordered as if he owned the goddamn place. Slamming his laptop shut, Junmyeon started to pack as the waiter, Minseok – as written on his nametag – jot down their order with a knowing grin  _(which made Junmyeon felt even more confused and irritated at the same time)_. Yifan looked at him with his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“What are you doing? I just got here.”

“Leaving, because apparently I’m far too busy to deal with an anonymous freak right now,” he said as he strapped his knapsack on. Seeing him leaving, Yifan stood up to follow him with a smirk. He watched as Junmyeon paid for the Americano he had, and told Minseok to cancel his order earlier before continued tailing Junmyeon down the street like an obedient dog. Junmyeon wanted to turn around and tell Yifan to stop following him, but if he did so, he’d lose.

“I’m sure you know my name.” Yifan slowly suggested a conversation from behind. Junmyeon laughed sarcastically before he realised he had given Yifan the satisfaction by reacting to his words. Damn this sarcastic reflex.

 _Oh well, what the hell_. Junmyeon finally decided to just play along until Yifan gives up.

“Unfortunately I don’t, but I’m already thinking about the other name for penis.” Yifan stopped walking and gasped, as if Junmyeon had just said the unthinkable. Rolling his eyes, Junmyeon turned around to see Yifan palming his mouth as his eyes turned superficially glassy.

“Oh my God! We’re a match made in heaven! How’d you know I was called Putz?” Yifan squealed, and ran towards Junmyeon to pull him into an embrace, only to be rejected blatantly when Junmyeon swung his thick textbook directly onto his face. It was a relief that the street was quiet that night. Only a few other passers-by present a few metres away, and they didn’t seem to be concerned enough to care about the two grown guys who were bickering on the street.

“Dick!”

“Whoa, you’re obscenely attractive; did you know that, Kim Junmyeon?” Yifan said while checking whether his nose was still intact, and smiled towards Junmyeon with his red nose, flashing his gummy smile and this time, Junmyeon felt weird because he didn’t thought of Hae Ryung anymore.

“How’d you know my name?”

“You used cards to pay the bills sometimes.”

“ _Why would you remember my name?_ ”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why would I follow you around at night on my day off?” Yifan said, and the confidence on his face suddenly dimmed out. Junmyeon’s thought about a lot of things the moment he saw Yifan’s peeking eyes and reddened cheeks. He thought about how he didn’t like Yifan’s height from the first time he saw him picking up the broken cup that he knocked down on his first day at work. He thought about how for the past few weeks, Yifan was always the one who served his table. He remembered seeing uniformed dots on Yifan’s right wrist a few days ago;  _he didn’t know Yifan was a cartoonist then, and that the dots were a part of the tone shades he used for his comic_. Slowly, Junmyeon started to realise that the smug look on Yifan’s face every time he was at the counter, paying for his meal was probably just Yifan concealing words he would like to let out but couldn’t. He also reminded of the smirks he got from Minseok just now when Yifan decided to sit and talk to him tonight.

He must’ve missed a lot of signs that Yifan was waving at his face.

“You... like me?”

“Seriously dude, have I really been that subtle?”

“I don’t know man, why didn’t you just write me a note on napkins or something instead doing all these Ahern’s shits?”

“You read Cecelia Ahern?”

“Dude!”

“Yeah, okay, sorry. So, what do you think?” Yifan finally asked, suddenly getting ready for Junmyeon’s answer when even Junmyeon himself was trying to really digest the whole situation inside his head. Yifan’s hands were on the sides of his head, getting ready to cover his face just in case he got rejected. He told Junmyeon to don’t mind it, but his face was too obvious that every word spoken by Junmyeon would affect him a lot. Junmyeon’s eyes then traced the outline of Yifan’s hands; how perfect they looked like no matter how stupid their owner was. He remembered being touched by those fingers earlier, and how hot they felt.

“I think you’ve gone mad and you’re an idiot. I’m so pissed at you right now because you make me waste my precious time to be bothered with your confession instead of doing my work, and I’m still confused as to why you were observing my hand at the café.” Junmyeon told him directly, and Yifan flinched momentarily, before he regained his composure and stood straight.

“Weirdly, I cannot sense any disgust or rejection from your words.”

“That’s because you’re an utter idiot.” Junmyeon sighed, and turned on his heels back towards the café. Yifan smiled as he offered to carry his knapsack, which Junmyeon gladly threw into his arms. When they reached the café, Minseok was grinning ear to ear as Yifan made a peace sign at him and Junmyeon rolled his eyes. Yifan kept his company the whole night through, and when Junmyeon told him that he should head home first, he awed at the concern and Junmyeon felt like killing himself by biting his tongue and bleed to death.

“It’s okay; I’m on the morning shift so I can just start immediately while waiting for you. I’m far too hype to sleep right now anyways. Just to be sure, you didn’t reject me, right?” he asked again, face concerned, and Junmyeon just felt the urge to tease him by saying ‘ _yes._ ’ Instead of answering him, Junmyeon asked him another question.

“Why did you look at my hand?”

“Because it’s smaller than mine.”

“You have a fetish, don’t you? Admit it, you like me because of the size of my hands,” Junmyeon asked him with eyes squinted in suspicion. Yifan laughed heartily before he shook his head and smiled before he turned to look at his face. It took Junmyeon off guard seeing him gazing into his eyes like that.

“No, just  _you_.”

He didn’t know why, but Junmyeon felt as if his theory about love was being ripped one by one when he heard Yifan’s low voice vibrating in the air and hovering just in the small space they had between them. But it was too early for any assumption anyways, so Junmyeon shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh, what’s your name by the way?” he finally remembered to ask, and Yifan mouth cartoony went into an ‘O’ state.

“Dude, you’re heartless.”

 

-

 

Being in a relationship with Yifan, Junmyeon discovered a lot of things about himself. For instance, he cursed a lot whenever he was gaming. There was one time when they were playing Gran Turismo and Yifan made a bet that if Junmyeon cursed more than five times during one lap of race, he would have to kiss him once for every five curses. Yifan ended up being kissed 45 times that weekend.

He also discovered that he hates, really hates horror movies when Yifan brought his whole collection of Freddy Krueger when they celebrated Junmyeon’s employment at a major home-designing company  _(which only lasted for four months before the economy depleted and Junmyeon was jobless once again)._ It took him weeks to recover from being paranoid of the bulges he saw under his comforter.

With Yifan, he developed the habit of palming their hands together whenever he could, but usually it was before sleep. Lying in bed next to each other while talking about Yifan’s comic that was rising in popularity; he would listen to Yifan’s creative ideas for the next volume while knitting his fingers in between Yifan’s, secretly counting the seconds before Yifan curled his palm and wrapped Junmyeon’s hand softly inside his. When he did that, the talk was usually over and Junmyeon was already on his way to dreamland as he felt a kiss planted at the top of his head.

“You stink,” Yifan usually told him in a whisper, and he would pinch his waist and kicked him in the shin before he reached for the switch to the lights.

“You snore like a pig,” he would whisper and they both would laugh until Yifan started to snore, and really, Junmyeon wished to buy him a ‘Breathe Right’ plaster  _(he didn’t have the chance to do so until they broke up)_.

Junmyeon discovered that his personal idiosyncrasy in love is to call each other stupid names for a good laugh; names that only they understood of. Once, he called Yifan ‘Green Hog’ for a few weeks because his boyfriend was obsessed with Angry Birds. He even asked for an official permission from the game developer’s company to dedicate an episode in his comic especially for the game  _(in which the green pigs were the real heroes who saved a bunch of suicidal-maniac birdies)_. In return, Yifan called him a ‘Hamburglar’ for almost a month when he won an eating contest held in their neighbourhood against the other Shrek-looking contestants. It didn’t even feel like an insult when you had a belt with your name on it hanging on the wall, though.

Maybe he was still too young when he was with Hae Ryung, so he felt the need to restrain himself from saying the things he wanted to say or do the things he wanted to do. For that, Junmyeon blamed his innocence. But it was different with Yifan. Even years after that when he was in a relationship with Ah Jung, Junmyeon couldn’t find the same serenity he felt when he was watching Yifan sketching his ideas onto dirty papers or the back of a book he was reading, face excited and mind probably light years away from the current universe. There was something special with the way his fingers enthusiastically created something out of nothing, and Junmyeon was mesmerised with the faith he had in Yifan to see that he was always waiting for the ideas on the dirty papers to be published in paperbacks the next month.

Just like how his faith in Yifan was endless, Junmyeon found the same faith was in Yifan’s eyes whenever he came to the office to send him the leftover cakes and coffee from the café after his shift ended because Junmyeon hated to bring his work home.

“One day you’re going to design a house for the President, and I want to be the first one to brag about it, like,  _‘You see that big mansion? Yeah that’s where the President lives and my boyfriend designed it,’_ ” he would say while grinning idiotically over the dividers between the worker’s desk, and Junmyeon usually shook his head trying to avoid the red tint that was surfacing across his cheeks.

For a while, Junmyeon abandoned his theory of love. Maybe real love  _is_  unconditional. Maybe loving someone means supporting them and thinking about them in every little thing you do. Who knows? Maybe Yifan is the right person all along. And even if he wanted to analyse this relationship generically, then he’ll be damned – maybe their generic love styles were the perfect match.

But Yifan wasn’t the one back then.

Again, it was university and Hae Ryung, only this time Junmyeon felt a bit much worse that before. Junmyeon was still struggling for another job after the first company declared their bankruptcy, and Yifan’s comics were now selling on the international level. He used to follow him for fanmeeting events around Korea, but it was tougher when it got over the international borders. Sometimes Yifan would be in China for a few days, and then Japan before he was back in Seoul. Forums on the internet were discussing how good looking the cartoonist for the comic strip is, and girls were being fans of Yifan instead of his comics.

It was all about publicity, so there’s nothing Junmyeon could do about it.

But slowly, he was getting a little bit unhappy by each day that passed by.

Thinking back about it, maybe it wasn’t even Yifan’s fault. Perhaps it was ego. Yes, it was ego that made Junmyeon felt uncomfortable when Yifan invited him to live together in his new and bigger apartment when he was back from China that day. Yifan did nothing wrong – he was just being the same Yifan that Junmyeon was attracted to. Idiotic, careless and eccentric. Planning about turning a room into a gaming room, picking out the curtains’ colour and the furniture, saying things like;

“Better use my boyfriend’s talent for a place that we’re going to live in together, yeah?” without even seeing Junmyeon’s glassy eyes or the veins that started to appear on his face. Quickly, Junmyeon wiped his face and faked a smile; something that he hadn’t use for a while.

“Sure,” he said, crashing his small built into Yifan’s chest while biting his lip.

A month later, after signing the last invoice for the set of sofa they chose together  _(it was white cream and Yifan said he couldn’t wait to have a deep slumber on it)_ and arranging it in the living room as they planned, Junmyeon left the keys inside the bowl next to the door, and never look back.

Maybe Yifan was the one for him back then, and their generic love styles undeniably matched, but he wasn’t the right one for Yifan. He chose to leave, because sooner or later, Yifan would see it, and it would be too late to back away without any of them getting hurt in the end.

So yes, his second relationship was the closest he came with  _‘true love.’_

 

-

 

Today, Junmyeon doesn’t really talk about his theory of love to anyone. He had two to three other relationships after Ah Jung, but they were all too needy, too fake, and too suffocating and Junmyeon could only stay just for a while. He is too overgrown for an innocent relationship like how he was with Hae Ryung. He is too old for an ambitious lover like Ah Jung, and he has been too stuck up and hardened to have a relaxed, carefree and fulfilling relationship like how being with Yifan was. Junmyeon decided that he is just simply not suitable for a love life anymore. And that’s okay, because look where he is now.

Years working under ignorant people had trained him to become better at managing his own business. After he said goodbye to his last company, Junmyeon decided that he’s had enough trimming and modifying his creativity into something so common and overused –  _generic_  – and he wasn’t going to waste anymore raw ideas after this. Together with a fellow colleague from his old workplace, Yixing, they opened their own home-design company and displayed their own ideas. Maybe they were doing it at the right time, because the business bloomed and they had to hire another architect and interior designer; so came along a trio – Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Sehun – three fresh graduates from his old university with abstract minds and adequate eyes for beauty.

So yeah, business is great. Sometimes he still feels lonely at nights, and of all people, he is reminded of Yifan’s pretty fingers dribbling on his back while he was trying to fall asleep inside his arms. But it’s okay, Junmyeon can manage it well so far.

 

-

 

“Kim Junmyeon? Is that really you?” a woman calls out his name as Junmyeon walks towards the counter to pay for his bills. Turning to his left, Junmyeon sees a brunette in plain white shirt and straight cut jeans is walking hastily towards his direction, one hand holding a baby in her arm and the other is full with shopping bags –  _shoes, baby clothes, decoration flowers_ – you name it.

“Hae Ryung? Hae Ryung! Wow, you look –”

“Old but still cute, right? I know, I know. Don’t fall in love with me again.” She laughs and Junmyeon still remembers the day he fell in love with someone who had a gummy smile like that  _(funny, he used to be reminded of Hae Ryung when he saw Yifan’s smile)._  Taking the bags off her hand, Junmyeon follows as Hae Ryung pulls his hand and forces him to sit down once again. Junmyeon checks the time on his wristwatch; still got half an hour before the weekly report meeting with the staff.

“So, you got a kid,” he casually states with a chuckle. Hae Ryung rolls her eyes and coos her baby when he starts to wriggle.

“And you still don’t. Surprise, surprise. Oh right, I heard you opened your own home-décor company, right?”

“Yeah, it’s been six years now. Why?” he asks and Hae Ryung’s eyes are lighting up, just like they used to years ago. What a thing memory is, what was once seemed like an unnoticeable trait now is the only thing that reminds someone of something out of nowhere.

“Okay, so me and my husband, we’ve just moved back here from Busan last week, and we got a hold on this apartment, not so big but cosy enough for a family of three like us. Speaking of which, you didn’t come to my wedding!”

“I was busy! Hae Ryung, I’ve got a meeting after this so you better be fast!” Junmyeon threatens her, and she huffs desperately. Her baby giggles as he sees her mother makes a funny face.

“Okay, okay. So I was wondering if you could come and see what you can do to make it safe for a family with a kid like mine? And I was hoping for a friendly price too,” she finally admits with a huge grin, and Junmyeon rolls his eyes jokingly.

“I’ll see what I can do. Is this Saturday okay? It’s the only free time I got so far,” he finally agrees, and Hae Ryung nods excitedly.

“I have a dental appointment in the morning, but my husband will be home. I’ll let him know, okay? And we have a lot to catch up, dude. Ex-lovers or not, we didn’t break up in a bad way so I’m obliged to be a busybody about your life,” Hae Ryung warns him, and Junmyeon slowly starts to regret his decision.

 

-

 

It was probably nine years ago, but Junmyeon can still recognise the building like it was yesterday. The walls have been repainted several times, but the number of stairs and the elevator’s sound is still so familiar inside his head.

“Oh, Junmyeon! Come on in!” Hae Ryung’s husband, the senior from her mountain climbing pictures greets him as soon as he presses the bell after a few minutes of hesitating.

The same house. The same curtain. The same sofa. They all look a little bit washed out and overused, but they’re still in the perfect condition just like how he left them.

“It’s great, isn’t it? A friend of mine leased it for me. Oh and this friend, his story was so sad. He’s been waiting for his lover to return so that’s why he’s been keeping this house, saying they’re going to live here together once she comes back, but I guess she has really dumped him. So right now he’s giving up, but he’s taking all the furniture though. A memory, he said,” Hae Ryung’s husband keeps on talking while handing him a can of beer, and Junmyeon politely accepts it.

“I mean, isn’t that stupid? But I guess, men in love are idiots, aren’t we? I’ve been Hae Ryung’s idiot for years now.” He continues and laughs heartily, not seeing the tears that start to brim on Junmyeon’s eyes. Wiping them away, he excuses himself for bathroom before he starts to measure the house away _(but he doesn’t really have to, he remembers everything about the crooks and the corners)_. Splashing the cold water from the tap onto his face, Junmyeon wants to tell himself that this is just all a coincidence, that friend isn’t the person he thinks he is. But he can’t, because he knows it is Yifan.

Drying his face with the towel on the wall, Junmyeon then proceeds to walk towards the kitchen, only to hear Hae Ryung’s husband bickering with someone about the sofa in the living room. He did hear someone rang the bell a few minutes ago.

“You’re not going to be in Korea anyways! Just let me have the sofa. I’ll pay extra from the three first months of the rent, okay?”

“I’m taking them with me. I told you, it’s a memory. I can’t just throw it away. What if we meet somewhere while I’m in Paris? Who knows, maybe if I’m alone and my lover’s still alone, then... maybe...” Yifan’s voice suddenly stops, and he lets out a deep sigh.

“Who am I kidding? Fine, just take it. I won’t put in any charge. It’s a housewarming gift,” he smiles sadly as Hae Ryung’s husband pats his shoulder. Junmyeon wants to walks out from the house right away, because he can’t stand seeing Yifan’s sad face, but he also wants to wipe away that sadness and tells him that he’s sorry, that Yifan never really left his mind. That he was being an idiot, because an idiot is what he is being best at so far. Stuck with two thoughts, he can’t move forward and he can’t run away.

“Junmyeon? What are you doing there? My appointment was cancelled, so I guess I’ll give you a tour around the hou—” Hae Ryung appears from behind and grabs his arm, bringing him into the kitchen where everyone else is when Yifan dashes towards them and pulls Junmyeon away from Hae Ryung.

“Yifan?”

“I’m going to borrow him for today! Sorry!” he yells, and Junmyeon can’t really say anything because the next thing he knows, the door is already closed behind them and he is being kissed hungrily inside a black Jeep in the rooftop parking lot.

“You’ve got nine-year worth of explanation, mister. I don’t care if you’re married or engaged or in a relationship right now, so start explaining!” he yells in between their kisses, and Junmyeon can see his eyes turn cloudy with a lot of questions instead of relief.

“I... I still haven’t design the President’s mansion—” Junmyeon finally takes his chance to speak, and Yifan looks at him, amazingly stupefied. But he knows that Yifan knows, it means more than that. Yifan knows how scared and proud he was, and he knows Yifan understands him. Yifan waited for nine years, goddamn it.

What’s so generic about love if someone could wait for an incompetent man like him? Theories be damned.

“You are amazingly idiotic, Kim Junmyeon,” Yifan breathes in between their kisses, and Junmyeon nods, agreeing.

Their fingers intertwined almost naturally, and isn’t it amazing how old habits resurfacing just because of the small things you remember about the people associated with it?

 

-

 

Hae Ryung looks at her husband questioningly, and the man shrugs.

“Well at least we got the sofa.”

 

**-End-**


	2. Comparing Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Perhaps, the problem is not the intensity of your love, but the qualities of the people you are loving.”
> 
> –Warsan Shire.

One of the many things that Yifan first figured out about Junmyeon during the times they were together was that Junmyeon was never comfortable sleeping inside someone’s arms. It was weird, and a little bit ironic actually, because every night whenever they were already in bed, getting ready to fall asleep,  Junmyeon would be the first one to find his hand and held onto it, as if he didn’t want to wake up alone _(Yifan never leave the bed until Junmyeon woke up, though)._ He usually would wake up the next morning to Junmyeon’s unconscious _(and rather violent)_ squirming, trying to get out from his long arms securing his neck and waist.

Of course, he didn’t let go. He never did.

So the night when he finally got Junmyeon back inside his arms after the tireless years of waiting, he was rather surprised to find Junmyeon’s small frame was clinging tightly onto him while the small guy was snoring. Yifan liked it, though. It felt really nice and fulfilling having Junmyeon inside his arms and close to him like that, filling in every crook, bend and corner of his body.

_Like they were the puzzle pieces that belonged next to each other_

At every toss and turn, however, Yifan was worried Junmyeon would crawl out of the bed and disappear again, leaving him lost, empty and heart-broken like he did almost nine years ago, so he didn’t get to sleep very soundly.

-

“Are you still going to work today?” Yifan asked him sleepily the morning after, and Junmyeon felt guilty as he buttoned his shirt up. “It’s freaking Sunday, you know? In case you didn’t check the calendar,” Yifan continued after Junmyeon sat quietly, almost like a statue when his first question went unanswered.

“I just need to sign a few papers for inventory. Yixing—”

“Who’s Yixing? And why is he calling you on your day off?” Yifan asked again, not letting Junmyeon to finish his sentence. His hands were crawling on the sides of his body, tickling him by the waist and proceeded to unbutton his shirt from the bottom. Junmyeon slapped his hands and stood up as quickly as he could from the bed, but he was held down by a pair of strong arms wrapped around his chest from the back.

‘Don’t go. Don’t meet Yixing. I don’t want you to meet Yixing. Who’s Yixing anyways?”

“Yixing’s my—”

“I hate him already.” Yifan deadpanned, cutting him off once again, and Junmyeon thought it was really funny to see Yifan’s blind jealousy dripping out from his tone of speaking and body language. It was really hard to see him acting so spoiled when they were together back then, and Junmyeon had always waited for Yifan to call him at random times during the nights he spent at his cubicle in the office doing the unappreciated overtimes and force him to go home. Yifan never did, though. Instead, he was the one who cycled from the café to his office, bringing him the leftovers and told him to work hard and don’t worry about him.

“Yifan...” Junmyeon whispered as he was still trying to fight the long fingers that were dancing on his ribs. Yifan stopped kissing his back when Junmyeon turned around and palmed his cheeks.

“Yixing’s my associate. And he’s taken, so you don’t have to worry about him.”

“Really?” Yifan asked him, slowly but curiously. There’s a glint of hope in his voice, too, but Junmyeon thought it would be very embarrassing if he point it out, so he didn’t.

“Yeah. He’s dating our junior designer,” Junmyeon told him carelessly as Yifan let him go to finish getting dressed. However, a couple of minutes later, Yifan clucked his tongue and scrunched his face. Something didn’t feel so right about Junmyeon’s statement.

“Who’s the junior designer?” he asked in a monotone. Junmyeon raised a brow trying to remember a name.

“Oh Sehun.” Yifan gritted his teeth.

“Let me get this straight; Yixing, your associate, a **man** , is _dating_ Oh Sehun, your junior designer, a **boy**? So he’s a – they’re a – **and I don’t have to worry**??” Yifan shrieked in panic, and Junmyeon covered his ears as he wondered how high this giant’s voice could go.

“Yeah. Well I _dated_ you, didn’t I? What’s the big deal?” Junmyeon asked without looking, trying to put on the cuff on his wrist. Yifan then naturally took his hands and helped him to put them on. Junmyeon thanked him with a big grin.

“ _Dating_.” Yifan suddenly said, and Junmyeon was dumbfounded.

“What’s that?”

“ _Dating_. You’re _dating_ me **now**. Don’t use any past tenses anymore or I’m gonna kick your ass,” he pouted, and Junmyeon winked as he apologised.

“Got it. So... dinner tonight?” he said as Yifan helped him to put on his jacket.

“Dinner tonight. Oh and Junmyeon?” Yifan called his name, and as he turned around, Junmyeon could feel a pair of warm lips were flowering his thin ones. It took them almost five minutes of silent breathing and tongues counting the teeth before Junmyeon took the initiative to pull away. Yifan still refused to let go, though, so their foreheads were connected for a few more seconds when Yifan whispered breathlessly;

“I still hate Yixing, though.”

Junmyeon couldn’t control his giggle.

-

“Who’s Zhitao?” Junmyeon asked calmly as he was sipping the Americano from the porcelain cup. Yifan, who was sitting in front of him across the table almost spurted his iced mocha, so he covered it up with a forced cough.

“Zhitao.” Yifan repeated as a statement, but Junmyeon knew it was supposed to be a series of questions; _‘where did you hear that name?’, ‘what did he say to you?’, ‘is he bothering you?’, ‘are you going to doubt me now?’_

“He called you last night while you were out for your Dunhill. He said he’s going to call you tomorrow, about France. Minseok said he’s a friend of yours.” Junmyeon said with a small smile on his face, having a quick glance at Yifan and then rested his view onto the dull-coloured weather outside the café. The beautiful green trees across the streets were busy turning yellow and fell onto the ground last week, and Junmyeon remembered kicking the bed of dried leaves with Yifan while holding hands on their way to the café.

Yifan suggested the café during the second week they were back together, saying that it belongs to Minseok, a good friend of his who worked together with him several years ago before he went famous. Junmyeon knew him, though. He was one of the first friends he made through Yifan. In fact, he did meet him a couple of years ago even before he knew Yifan was actually keeping tabs about him. Minseok did mention about the opening of his new café but Junmyeon was too distracted to remember the details because he was afraid that Yifan could be jumping out of nowhere at any time while they were speaking.

“You know, Yifan, we’ve been living our own lives in the past nine years. It’s only natural for you to have someone... you know, _special_ , before we crossed paths again. I did, too.” Junmyeon finally let out his thought as he reached for Yifan’s hand that was let free on the table. It seemed as if Yifan was taken by surprise with his words, and his touch made him relaxed a little bit.

“He was more than a friend, but he wasn’t _special_. You, you are _special_ , but he wasn’t. It was just some occasional meet ups and drinks together, but then it turned into something else. _Physical_. I didn’t know that he would become so... attached. He’s struggling with trying to come out to his parents, you know, and I was having a hard time then, because _you_ —” Yifan paused; his hands were covering his eyes and a big part of his face. He seemed reluctant to continue, but at the same time, he was eager to do so.

“...because I was never without a partner?” Junmyeon continued in a whisper, one hand trying to pull Yifan’s hands away from his face, but failed.

“Because I didn’t look for you?” he guessed again, giving up on trying. But Yifan was still silent.

“Because you were so happy back then that I was scared you’d walk past me one day and wouldn’t even remember who I am,” Yifan finally whispered after a couple of minutes, and Junmyeon bit his lower lip.

 _‘It wasn’t a long time ago, was it?_ ’ Junmyeon would like to ask, but didn’t, because he knew about the plane tickets to France that he found inside Yifan’s drawer a few days after they were back together. He saw the luggage hidden inside Yifan’s wardrobe – they were yet to be unpacked. He could hear Yifan’s voice whispering into the phone a few nights ago, trying to tell someone to never call him again politely, as if he was talking to a child.

Well, putting his trust in an adult like that; Zhitao _is_ a child, isn’t he?

Funny, he remembered the time when he was so obsessed with the idea of generic love. If he was who he was nine years ago, maybe he would already be standing up and walking out of the café, because the Yifan in front of him right now wasn’t the Yifan that was going to match him. This Yifan was still feeling guilty for a kid he used to sleep with and had grown attached to, and Junmyeon wasn’t ready to have someone like that telling him ‘I love you’ every morning in his bed, because right now, Junmyeon was ready to give Yifan his whole life if he asked him to.

_(He had abandoned his other options by choosing Yifan again, and Yifan must be cut off any other options too, just like him)_

“I’m sorry.” Junmyeon apologised, and Yifan pulled his hands away from his face. He seemed surprised with the apology. Junmyeon let out a small sigh, and smiled.

“There were times when I didn’t think about you at all. It would be really inappropriate to remember about my ex-lover when I was having a happy time with my new one, don’t you think?” he said, and Yifan nodded solemnly.

“And I don’t think you would want to know when I missed you the most,” he guessed, but Yifan shook his head.

“I do.” He said. Junmyeon scratched the back of his head and bit his lower lip again.

“I missed your big hands at nights when I was alone. I missed you during breakfast because nobody ever made me those slimy sandwiches like you after that. Whenever I was at a client’s empty house, I wondered how you felt the morning after I was gone.” He muttered quietly, and his eyes were focusing on his coffee cup instead of Yifan’s face.

“I missed you whenever I felt like it would be convenient for me, and I’m sorry for that. I’ve wasted nine years of our lives trying to deny that I am in love with you, that you are the right ones for me, and I’m sorry for that too. So Yifan, there’s nothing to be guilty about. I’m sorry that I let you felt that way, and I’m sorry for Zhitao.” Junmyeon ended, and by the time he looked up again, Yifan was smiling with his gum shown; a sight that made him fall in love with him once.

“Zhitao’s my cousin. He’s going to study some culinary skills in France and he forced me to follow him because he can’t speak the language, but it’s a good thing you came right before the flight, so I had an excuse to stay.” Yifan explained, and Junmyeon had an extreme dumbfounded look on his face.

“And trust me, despite being so fucking cuddly and girly, he’s so not into men,” he added after he took another sip of his iced mocha, so cavalier and carefree as if he wasn’t the guy with all the problems in this world a few minutes ago.

“I’m glad that I was always on your mind, darling.” He continued when Junmyeon was still staring at him as if his eyes were shooting laser and Yifan’s face was a piece of cardboard for an experiment.

“It’s also revenge, since, well, you’ve been dating quite a handful of ladies while I was trying so damn hard to stay truehearted to our love. Oh, the struggle. It’s really hard to be handsome and remain single at the same time, you know.” He let out a heavy sigh before pulling a big idiotic grin on his face. Junmyeon took a deep breath and shut his eyes.

“ _Fuck you_. For the love of God, I do love you, but _fuck you_ , Wu Yifan.”

-

“So what about Hae Ryung?”

“What about her?” Junmyeon returned the question as Yifan was trying to fit into the same bathtub he was in. Junmyeon laughed seeing the water overflowed as the giant man was adjusting his back. A yellow duck slipped from his hands and fell onto the floor as he was straightening his feet underneath Junmyeon’s naked bottom. He grunted and huffed, and the aromatherapy candles that were surrounding them swayed as if a dragon had just flapped its wings across.

“Well, she’s your first girlfriend, isn’t she? Why are you still in contact with her?” he asked, this time more specifically, and Junmyeon giggled as he ran the handheld shower across Yifan’s face. His lover was gasping for air for a few seconds before he grabbed the shower from his hands and hooked it back in its place. Yifan then captured both his wrists and held them down onto Junmyeon’s bare thighs. They looked so pale and translucent as he bent his knees and the candle lights were illuminating his protruded legs.

“Hae Ryung’s also married and mothering a child. What is so wrong by keeping in touch with an old friend? You’re still having game weekends with Minseok and... Who’s that kid from your old publishing company? The cracked editor... Jongdae!” Junmyeon yelped at the end of his words when Yifan slipped one of his toes between his legs, slowly between his thighs up to his bottom. Junmyeon’s toes were curling at the sudden touch as he crouched until his forehead was kissing his knees, and Yifan seemed to enjoy his view.

“He’s not cracked. He’s just... eccentric. Besides, he laughs a lot and I think it’s funny. I don’t like you hanging out with Hae Ryung too often,” he warned, this time slipping another toe just below Junmyeon’s crotch. Junmyeon let out a heavy moan as he tilted his head backwards; lips trembled just from the friction made by Yifan’s toes. What pissed him more was that Yifan didn’t even use his hands at all, smirking at him as he was leaning against the wall of the tub, moving his toes and made Junmyeon excited all by himself.

“For God’s sake, dude, her husband’s your fucking editor!” Junmyeon yelled as he jerked one of his legs forward, straight into Yifan’s crotch. There was a sound like a dying ox coming out from Yifan’s mouth, and he was crouching with his face half-submerged into the water. Standing up, Junmyeon’s hands were on his waist, and he was looking at Yifan like a winner looking down at the third placer.

“Whaaarrr diirrr yuuurrr durrr thaarrrr—” Yifan yelled from underneath the water so it wasn’t very audible. Junmyeon pulled his head up from the water by the neck and he was almost deafened by the dolphin-like scream from his lover.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT!? My dick—arggghhh!!” Yifan stood up abruptly, looking down for a quick check on his vital area. Junmyeon hissed when he saw a bruise the size of his feet just a few inches away from Yifan’s scrotum.

“Nobody likes bubble soap in their ass. Besides, I missed it. Stop being so overdramatic, dude.” Junmyeon snickered as he walked out from the bathtub, only to be pulled in once again by Yifan.

“Since when did you become so dangerous?” he asked as his mouth was busy attacking Junmyeon’s. Junmyeon was suffocating, struggling to find his grip on the sides of the bathtub and escaping Yifan’s sexual harassment.

“Since – ugh – hmmnn... I met you... nine years ago,” he muttered between their kisses, and Yifan pulled him up to be on top of him so Junmyeon wouldn’t die anytime soon. He continued kissing him with his hands palming the latter’s chest and waist and down to his bottom, before slipping his fingers into Junmyeon. The grips of Junmyeon’s nails were carving moon-shaped prints on his shoulders as Yifan reached the right spot.

“And since when... hnn... did you become so fucking needy?” Junmyeon returned the question a while later as Yifan was slamming him inside the now dried up bathtub. Some of the bubbles were still sticking on his nose, so Yifan leant in and licked them away, before he kissed Junmyeon hungrily and thrust slower and deeper inside him. The bruise on his inner thigh was stinging, but that’s not a big deal. He was already high on this drug named Kim Junmyeon, so he could just deal with the pain later.

“Since you left me alone in that stupid apartment nine years ago, so there’s a very thin line between being a passionate lover and a freaking sexual offender for me right now,” he whispered, biting Junmyeon’s left ear a bit too hard that it would definitely leave a scar tomorrow.

“Fuck.” Junmyeon deadpanned.

“Yes, fuck.” Yifan replied.

-

“So... you’re taking back the apartment?” Hae Ryung asked, carefully and in a defensive tone. Junmyeon laughed and shook his head.

“He’s too lazy to cancel the lease, don’t worry.”

Hae Ryung let out a relieved sigh.

“But he’s taking back the sofa.” Junmyeon said in a relaxed tone, and Hae Ryung laughed. She only stopped laughing when she realised Junmyeon wasn’t laughing along with her.

“Seriously?” She asked.

“Seriously.” He repeated.

"Junmyeon-ah?" Hae Ryung called his name as polite and as soft as she could, that it made Junmyeon a tad surprised.

"Yeah?"

“I knew I’m going to hate you one day.”


	3. Comparing Notes: A Shot Worth Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'd never thought that you'd be the one to hold my heart_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't satisfied with the previous sequel so I simply wrote another one.

_“I’d never thought that you’d be the one to hold my heart_

_How many times will you let me change my mind and turn around?_

_I can’t decide if I’ll let you save my life or if I’ll drown_

_The world is coming down on me and I can’t find a reason to be loved_

_I never want to leave you but I can’t make you bleed_

_If I’m alone.”_

 

 

-

One of the many things that Yifan first figured out about Junmyeon during the times they were together was that Junmyeon was never comfortable sleeping inside someone’s arms. It was weird, and a little bit ironic actually, because every night whenever they were already in bed, getting ready to fall asleep,  Junmyeon would be the first one to find his hand and held onto it, as if he didn’t want to wake up alone _(Yifan never leave the bed until Junmyeon woke up, though)._ He usually would wake up the next morning to Junmyeon’s unconscious _(and rather violent)_ squirming, trying to get out from his long arms securing his neck and waist.

He didn’t let go, though. He never did.

So the night when he finally got Junmyeon back inside his arms after the tireless years of waiting, he was rather surprised to find Junmyeon’s small frame was clinging tightly onto him while the small guy was snoring. Yifan liked it, though. It felt really nice and fulfilling having Junmyeon inside his arms and close to him like that, filling in every crook, bend and corner of his body.

_Like they were the puzzle pieces that belonged next to each other_

At every toss and turn, however, Yifan was worried Junmyeon would crawl out of the bed and disappear again, leaving him lost, empty and heart-broken like he did almost nine years ago, so he didn’t get to sleep very soundly.

-

When Junmyeon woke up the next morning with puffy eyes for crying too much after so many years since the last time he did, he was greeted with the warmth of an enormous hand palmed over his nape and the sight of sharp, bare collarbones right underneath his nose. It had been years since the last time he woke up having his limbs and body entangled so close with someone, and he could feel an awkward breath exhaled slowly but heavily from his nostrils. 

Being Junmyeon, however, the awkwardness only last for a few seconds _(a minute to be exact)_ as he was getting more curious about where he had spent his night. Yifan was literally all over him as soon as he opened the front door last night, continuing their sloppy kisses and wild hands from inside his Jeep earlier, so he didn’t get the exact details of the house interiors. All that he was able to figure out was that it was a two-storey bungalow, the walls were all white except for the bedroom, no couch and there were a lot of boxes, everywhere. As if someone was moving out and he faintly had the idea who it was.

His phone rang from inside the front pocket of his jacket, and Junmyeon was sure it was either Yixing asking him of his whereabouts, or Hae Ryung, simply because she was curious. Shit, there were going to be a lot of explanations needed, and Junmyeon was starting to freak out because he could somehow predict that Hae Ryung wasn’t going to be satisfied with any of the ones he had in mind. He would like to slap Yifan for letting his habit of doing the thinking later stuck to his personality. Yifan was still sleeping calmly when he looked up, and Junmyeon immediately thought there was something missing with the way of his breathing.

It took him almost two minutes of thinking and five minutes of admiring the sharp jawline that moved when Yifan mumbled his name in his sleep to finally figure out what was missing. Yifan didn’t snore. His breath was calm and composed, and there were no more choking sounds coming from his mouth and nose every time he inhaled.

 _‘What a pity,’_ he thought as he dribbled his fingers on Yifan’s long neck after he planted a soft kiss on his chin, because Yifan somehow cured his snore and he didn’t get to buy him the Breathe-Right nose plaster. He stopped his fingers from moving down further towards Yifan’s chest as he was greeted with a soft moan.

“Morning,” Yifan greeted him sleepily, his voice coarse and low. Instead of replying to his greet, Junmyeon chuckled and tried to roll to the other side so that he could get off the bed, his back facing Yifan, but he was stopped midway when a hand pinched his waist causing him to yelp. Pulling him by the neck and turning him around so that Junmyeon would be facing him again, Yifan crashed their lips together before Junmyeon had the chance to complaint.

“I. Said. Morning.” Yifan said his words one by one, whispering against Junmyeon’s lips when they parted a few seconds later, as if Junmyeon didn’t speak Korean. Junmyeon wanted to roll his eyes and say _‘yeah, idiot, I heard you,’_ but Yifan pulled him in once again and kissed him hungrily. He could feel Yifan’s teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he was rolled onto his back and his giant lover was now crouching above him like a hungry tiger.

“Fine. Good morning to you too, you imbecilic brute.” Junmyeon finally had the chance to speak, and Yifan laughed as he pushed his finger against the small man’s wrinkled forehead. Junmyeon still secretly liked the way how Yifan’s nose slightly crinkled as he laughed, so he decided to let him had his moments for a few more seconds.

“Oh, name calling, huh? I guess I’m going to call you Major Sore-Ass for the whole day today,” he said as his laughter subsided, slowly caressing the sides of Junmyeon’s frame from his chest down towards his hips. Junmyeon wanted to ask him why he would call him that, but when Yifan’s right hand dangerously reached the inside of his left thigh and brushed over a fresh bruise that he made last night with his teeth _(even though he still got his pants on)_ , Junmyeon could feel his face flushed in an instant. As if Yifan had just switched a button on, Junmyeon could now feel his whole body aching from head to toes, especially near his waist and bottom. The bruise Yifan touched just now felt tingly, and Junmyeon realised a few seconds later that the same tingly feeling was all over his bare neck and chest, not to mention how obvious it felt on the bright red print of Yifan’s aligned teeth marked on his left shoulder. He was lucky Yifan didn’t have any appetite on savouring his mate, or he’d be a history by now.

_Damn giant didn’t even spare me for a breath_

“Hahahaha very funny. Now get off me,” he ordered, pushing the giant away and hoping that Yifan wouldn’t get the chance to make fun of his red face as of now. Yifan was about to lose his balance from Junmyeon’s hands that were pushing and pinching his chest and waist, so he slammed his body against Junmyeon’s small frame and secured him back inside his arms. The bed creaked loudly as Junmyeon tried to wriggle his way out of the death by suffocating initiated by his own partner.

“Ouch, that hurts! Get off me, you idiot I’ve got work to do!”

“Oh come on! You’re the goddamn director; missing a WIP meeting for a day won’t kill you,” Yifan reminded him, and Junmyeon was actually genuinely surprised to hear that Yifan was well aware of his business. He didn’t get the chance to say anything about it since last night as there were more kissing and sucking than talking, and the feeling of someone else’s bare skin sliding and rubbing against his really made him forget about everything he had planned and sorted inside his mind.

_Wu Yifan is going to kill me with his bare hands one day and I might even allow him to do so with a smile_

“You know about my company?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I know about it. Do you think I’d be so ignorant about someone that I – _never mind that_ , I just remembered that it took you months to finally realise that I _was_ in love with you,” Yifan faked a sigh as he rolled their bodies so that they’ll be lying on their sides and facing each other. Junmyeon secretly wondered how big this bed in Yifan’s bedroom really is to think that they still didn’t fall after rolling around in it since last night, literally. Yifan then shut his eyes and frowned, as if he was trying to think about something really hard. Junmyeon felt it was too cute of him so he was about to pinch Yifan’s cheek when the latter suddenly opened his eyes and caught him off guard.

“Sorry, I meant I _am_ still in love with you.”

“What?” Junmyeon asked him; his eyes were following the way Yifan’s wrist moved as he brought his left hand to Junmyeon’s cheek, as if he was checking that Junmyeon was really there. That he was not just a fragment of his imagination. Yifan rolled his eyes and pinched Junmyeon’s cheek instead of palming it lightly as he wanted to do earlier.

“I said _was_ earlier. Geez, Kim Junmyeon I thought you were a good student. Where’s your attention when someone is talking to you, man? We’re reuniting after nine freaking years and the first thing I heard from you is your work. Give me a break.” He pouted, snuggled closer and planted his lips onto Junmyeon’s neck before he slowly traced the marks he made last night on Junmyeon’s pale skin from the base of the neck up to underneath his chin. Junmyeon shivered when the kiss ended behind his left ear, and the way Yifan palmed his cheeks as he kissed him reminded him of how he missed those big hands with pretty fingers to be all over his body, caressing his bare skin underneath his clothes during the nights when the weather were too cold to sleep in and he got nobody by his side to cuddle with.

“I’ve missed you,” Junmyeon whispered into Yifan’s ears as his fingers were dipping into the waistband of his sweatpants. It was already big enough since it was Yifan’s actually – it was raining cats and dogs when they arrived last night and they were both drenched to the bones – and Junmyeon was pretty sure it would take just seconds for Yifan to pull it off him, but he liked it when Yifan took his time to undress him like that. The way Yifan’s knuckles brushed against his waist was ticklish but extremely arousing at the same time, and Junmyeon could feel his toes curled up as he tried to restrain his excitement.

“You certainly did,” Yifan mocked him; breathing heavier as he moved down from Junmyeon’s chest to his navel, kissing the pale body tenderly as if Junmyeon was too precious to be handled carelessly. It was also the same last night. He might seemed rushed and impatient, throwing Junmyeon’s small frame onto the bed and putting his palms all over him as soon as they were done undressing each other, but only Junmyeon knew how tender their lovemaking was. Yifan was never harsh with him, not nine years ago and not last night. It still felt the same, and if there was any difference with the way it was before, it was probably how tight Yifan’s grip on his arms when he came inside of him.

_(it felt as if he was marked for life, like he could never escape him, not anymore)_

Junmyeon was still thinking about pushing Yifan away and run towards his jacket when his phone was vibrating for the third time, but Yifan’s hands were already pulling his pants off by the time he opened his mouth. His words became loud moans when he saw Yifan peeking up from between his thighs, licking every mark he made last night and planting new ones nearer to his crotch.

“You know, you can still stop me now if you really don’t want to be late for work,” Yifan suggested with a smirk on his face as his pretty fingers were wrapped around Junmyeon’s cock, slowly moving his hand up and down. Junmyeon didn’t say anything; he didn’t want to. He knew; he was familiar with the fact that Yifan would love it if he provoked him more with his words. He knew it since the night Yifan confessed to him for god’s sakes. Clenching his teeth, he felt his muscles flexed and his breathing was getting out of control when Yifan casually shrugged as he took Junmyeon’s thighs and hooked them onto his shoulders before he dipped his tongue inside Junmyeon and slowly sucked on his fidgeting hole. It was still a little sore from last night, and Junmyeon had actually thought to stop Yifan from proceeding, but he could only muffle another moan as Yifan began to dip a finger deeply inside of him.

“That’s – _uhn_ – unnecessary. You know I’m already loose enough, dumbass,” he scolded, biting his lower lip and his eyes went teary. Yifan licked his lips; he liked it when Junmyeon inadvertently seduced him with his expressions, and dipped another finger in, slowly sliding them in and out of Junmyeon. Tilting his head backwards, Junmyeon’s hands were fisting the bed sheet until his knuckles turned white when Yifan teased him again with his tongue.

“You still have five seconds before I put it in, darling,” he said again, laughingly. Junmyeon clucked his tongue, annoyed, and in the midst of the touches, the licks, the soreness and the pleasure, he managed to grab Yifan by the neck, pulled him up and crashed their lips together. The impact was pretty strong and he thought his upper lip was bleeding because of the cut he got from Yifan’s teeth, but his tongue was still twisting and battling against Yifan’s. The metallic taste lingered still when Yifan pushed him down again, mouths and tongues still connected.

“Stop talking and fuck me.” Junmyeon breathed in between their kisses, and Yifan didn’t waste any more seconds.

Just for today, Junmyeon thought, _‘ah, work be damned.’_

-

Junmyeon’s skin was so white and pale it was almost translucent, making the teeth marks that Yifan planted around his collarbones and neck seemed so vividly red and obvious; it would be a hard time for him to cover them up until they disappear. But Yifan liked the way they looked, though, as if a dozen of red rose petals were scattered on his skin as Junmyeon was sleeping soundly next to him later that morning. He must have been so exhausted to the point that he was even snoring. Yifan chuckled as he slowly sat up and watched his lover flinched from whatever invisible dream he was having. Taking one of Junmyeon’s hands into his palms, Yifan remembered the first thing that got him hooked with this small man nine years ago.

It was definitely his hands. They looked so frail the first time he laid his eyes on them; so thin and pale and plain, but seeing how Junmyeon fisting his files and carrying dozens of books in a single trip from wherever he was and into the café, Yifan was amazed to know that size didn’t really matter in Junmyeon’s case.

Seeing how well he was doing in the years they were separated, too, Yifan was sure that size was nothing but a measurement humans love to apply to other humans when they are sure they are being trampled on by someone’s great abilities.

Well, of course it wasn’t the only reason why he couldn’t let Junmyeon go. He’s not that shallow. He obviously found a lot more reasons to love this Kim Junmyeon after he was pulled into the fascination over him. For instance, he liked the way Junmyeon tapped his fingers to a familiar rhythm every time he was waiting for his coffee. It took him a few days of attentive eavesdropping while serving the tables every time the small man was there to finally figure that Junmyeon was tapping to ‘Fly Me to The Moon.’ His colleague at that time, Minseok said that he was awesome to figure out the song just from a few missed beats like that. Also, he acknowledged Yifan’s _obsessiveness_ towards Junmyeon.

“Nobody would really spend their working hours focusing on a goddamn customer while the manager is always up their asses like ours,” were his exact words which Yifan replied with nothing but a shrug.

 _Obsessiveness._ Yifan didn’t really like that word, though. _Lovesickness_ sounded way better.

_(but when he started to dip his nose on the thin bed of Junmyeon’s pale wrist; feeling the calm pulse and inhaling his sweet scent, however, Yifan thought that maybe he had always been a little bit obsessive about Junmyeon in his own, harmless way)_

“I’m hungry,” Junmyeon’s voice suddenly emerged, dry and breaking, dusting away the clouds of thoughts inside his head. Yifan let go of his hand and watched as Junmyeon yawned, putting both his hands up and stretching his bones. He was still half-asleep when Yifan poked his cheek playfully; making him drew a small sweet smile on his face with droopy eyes. The way his thin lips curled upwards and deepened the dimples on his chin made Yifan wanted to put him inside a small box and hide him away from everyone else, because it would be impossible for anyone to not fall in love with that kind of look on his face, and that would be the last thing Yifan wanted to happen.

“What about a brunch date? There’s a nice café two blocks away. Remember Minseok? My friend from when I was part-time waitressing? It’s his café. It’s not like he makes the best coffee, though, but he put some of my masterpieces on display for his interior, so... yeah.” His words faded when he realised that Junmyeon was staring at him as he was speaking animatedly. He could feel the blush crawling up his neck and rested on his cheeks, and somehow, Junmyeon’s eyes gave him a little chill down his spine.

“Stop staring at me, dude. Don’t start being so creepy. That’s my role,” he finally said when Junmyeon still hadn’t move a muscle. Blinking, Junmyeon chuckled as he held out a hand for Yifan to pull him up. He whimpered with pain when Yifan did as what he demanded; one hand at the back of his nape while the other was pulling him up, gently.

“I’m not sure. Still sore,” he told him, patting his back down to his bottom. Yifan laughed while apologising, taking his hand to his lips and kissed his palm. His other hand was resting on Junmyeon’s bare thigh, though, and sensing an impending danger as the huge hand started to crawl up and further beneath the oversized white shirt _(the only piece of clothing he had on by then)_ , Junmyeon punched him in the stomach and pushed his hand away. Yifan grunted in pain as he palmed his stomach and pouted.

“I said I’m still sore, dumbass,” he growled, voice still unnaturally rough. Yifan put both his hands up in retreat.

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” Yifan said, a bit regretful that Junmyeon decided to reject his advances. Grunting, Junmyeon cringed at the pain as he crawled out of the bed. He was giving his back towards Yifan as he looked outside through the upright rectangular window with bright yellow frame against the dark blue wall, next to the bed – _the whole bedroom was a twisted labyrinth of abstractness, really, but Junmyeon didn’t feel the need to complain on the room professionally_ – stretching once again and yawned. The sun was already high up in the sky, and since most of the walls were huge floor-to-ceiling window panes instead of bricks, the silhouette of Junmyeon’s small frame as he stood there was mesmerising. The small hairs on his body made him look as if he was glowing, and Yifan drank up the sight of Junmyeon’s naked body inside his shirt until he was satisfied; thinking how wearing an oversized shirt could never make a small man’s body look bigger ( _but sexier instead)_ , before pointing out to Junmyeon about how wobbly his feet looked when he walked.

“It’s been a while,” Junmyeon told him after a couple of minutes contemplating whether to reply to Yifan’s comment sarcastically or honestly. He chose the latter because Yifan didn’t seem to be mocking him. Yifan raised his brows.

“A while of _what_?” he asked, a little bit lost. Junmyeon still refused to turn around to face him, but from behind, Yifan could see the pinkish tints that started to appear on his cheeks up to his ears. It was really hard to cover your embarrassment when your skin complexion would betray you every time you’re trying to hide it.

“Spending the night with someone, _physically_ ,” he stressed on the last word, and finally turned around only to catch Yifan’s apologetic face.

“You could’ve told me earlier! Gosh, I was doing you like a mad man,” Yifan raised his voice as he got off the bed and walked towards where Junmyeon was standing, closing in before he wrapped his long arms around Junmyeon’s waist. His voice muffled as he buried his nose in Junmyeon’s ruffled hair at the back of his head and it probably ticklish since Junmyeon let out a few chuckles because of that.

“Didn’t have the chance to. I thought our words ended the moment you dragged me out of your Jeep and into the house,” Junmyeon said, jokingly and Yifan tightened his arms as he squealed out of embarrassment against Junmyeon’s narrow shoulders.

“I don’t remember you being that needy, Yifan, so I think it’s rather surprising; a tad overworked, but in a good way. I could get used to an aggressive you,” Junmyeon told him as he turned around, letting his body weighed onto Yifan while he hooked his arms around the tall guy’s neck.

“By ‘could get used to,’ I assume that there will be no more waiting on my part?” Yifan asked and Junmyeon rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t I say I’m sorry?”

“It’s not enough, Kim Junmyeon.” Yifan complained as he kissed Junmyeon’s forehead and laughed at a few strands of white hair sticking out from his messy bed hair. Junmyeon grunted and tried to slick them down with his hand, fixing his hair in the process, only to be messed up again with Yifan’s big palms. Junmyeon then gave up and fixed his dark brown orbs onto Yifan’s face. There was always something about his stare that could melt him in an instant, Yifan thought before he held his lover by the shoulders and separated their bodies in a distance.

“Your apologies are not yet adequate,” he repeated, and Junmyeon frowned. He didn’t think Yifan was serious.

“Does this mean my apologies aren’t accepted?” he asked, carefully and curiously, and Yifan thought how he missed the nervous look on Junmyeon’s face. He first saw that kind of expression while they were waiting for the publisher to confirm whether his first comic is going to be in the market or not, and he loved it ever since. He loved it even more when Junmyeon cried as he lifted him up when they got the phone call. He thought he was lucky enough to have someone who worry and cry for him like that, and it was probably one of the definitive moments when he thought that he could not un-love this Kim Junmyeon for the rest of his life.

_(but of course, Junmyeon wasn’t even in love with himself back then, so Yifan decided to wait)_

“No, they are accepted. Just not quite. You see, Junmyeon, you missed something about me. I am a man with thorough planning. When I fell in love with you nine years ago, I was half-way on finishing my first life goal; becoming a published artist.”

“So I was in your way?” Junmyeon asked, voice sounded a bit hurt. He pushed Yifan’s hands away and stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He also seemed a bit irritated by the way he was squinting, trying to figure out where this late morning conversation was going. Yifan looked a tad surprised with his guess, so he put up both palms as a sign of retreat.

“That was definitely _not_ my point, and baby, I would be very sad if you’re thinking about that, even for once. You see, falling in love with you was unplanned, but it was certainly a beautiful _coincidence_ , and _coincidence_ is never planned. It’s something that the higher up department got going for thousands of years and I’m not going to argue about that. In fact, I’m grateful that they brought me to you,” he paused as he brought one of his hands to palm Junmyeon’s cheek, admiring his small face and pale skin. Secretly, for once, Junmyeon thought he wouldn’t want to share Yifan’s expression while he did that with anyone else.

“I’m not sure if I should feel happy about this,” Junmyeon teased him. Yifan chuckled; his voice low, and continued.

“I’m a strong believer of coincidence. So I put you into my plans. You were everywhere – in every corner, crook, even the hole that I didn’t know about. If I’m about to put it romantically, baby, you were the North to my map,” he paused with a small smile on his face. Junmyeon looked away, even if he liked that smile. He looked away, because he thought Yifan has made a mistake. He was scared that he was Yifan’s mistake, and he couldn’t possibly live comfortably knowing that he had been a mistake in someone’s life.

“Idiot. That’s _your_ fault and I’m not going to say sorry for someone else’s fault,” Junmyeon told him, trying to be as stubborn as he usually was and Yifan nodded.

“That’s not a mistake, though, so you don’t have to apologise for it.”

“I wasn’t _apologising_!”

“I know you weren’t,” Yifan said with a smirk, and Junmyeon took a deep breath, controlling his anger. He started to regret letting Yifan leading the conversation without any restriction.

“I shouldn’t... you shouldn’t have done that,” Junmyeon said after a minute of silence, palming his face and shaking his head, taking a step backward and distancing himself from Yifan. He started to think about what got him into this situation; seeing Yifan again, looking into his eyes, listening to his voice _(when he should already be spinning in his desk chair at the office and listening to Oh Sehun’s absurd ideas by this hour)_. He blamed himself at first for coming to the old apartment. After that he blamed his inability to pull away from Yifan’s arms as he was shoved into the Jeep last night. Then he blamed Hae Ryung for calling him out a few days ago just before his meeting. A few seconds later, he blamed Hae Ryung for everything.

He had almost forgotten about the wasted love he thought he didn’t deserve _(except for a few lonesome nights here and there)._

So close, so close.

“You weren’t in my plans, Yifan. You weren’t in mine, so why...? Why gave me such _responsibility_ in yours?” he asked, hands still covering his face and Yifan slowly pulled them away. Junmyeon was crying again, and his face must’ve been so scrunched up and absurd that he could hear Yifan hummed in a low tone as he pulled him into a tight hug.

“Because you’re my obsession, and that’s the only way to chain you up,” Yifan whispered, and the words felt as if they were crawling down his spine, biting his flesh and cornered him.

_(Junmyeon was supposed to be very, very afraid because, God, Yifan was literally telling him to never leave his side again. Because he was very capable of doing something so wrong and unfair – illegal, perhaps – to Junmyeon if he did)_

But it’s okay, because it’s Yifan. It’s definitely alright.

-

Yifan had to go to his studio that late afternoon after his publisher called, asking about his latest project. Junmyeon was called more than a dozen times by Yixing, asking for his whereabouts and Yifan seemed uneasy when Junmyeon was still on the phone as he was about to walk out the door, so instinctively, Junmyeon pulled the neck of his jacket and closing the distance between them before planting a silent kiss on his cheek.

“See you tomorrow,” he told Yifan, and Yifan floated away to the front door. It was about fifteen minutes later when the doorbell rang while Junmyeon was getting his jacket behind the door. Of course, Junmyeon would expect nobody else other than Yifan himself, probably forgetting something important _(or just an excuse to not to go to work and abuse Junmyeon, again)._

But no. The door wasn’t even half-opened when someone kicked it from outside and threw Junmyeon a few feet away from where he was standing. It was in moments like this that he pitied his manly soul for being trapped in such a wimpy body.

Junmyeon bit his tongue as he was still trying to stand up from where he fell. He was lucky enough to have missed the small oak end table where Yifan put his white marble key bowl, or so help him, there’s going to be a new haunting in town. He thought that he would need to see a doctor later since his left wrist felt a little fucked up from the fall. Though, that could only happen if he survived this raging young fucker with scary eyes in front of him.

“Hah! You’re not even pretty,” the young man snickered, scanning Junmyeon from head to toes as he put one hand on hip and the other hand wiped away his fringe that curtained before his eyes. Junmyeon already knew for quite some time that he wasn’t the prettiest man alive or anything, so none offence taken from the young man’s words. After all, isn’t a man supposed to be handsome and fit? He would like to give the intruder that piece of his mind once he’s vertical again, but apparently his legs didn’t agree with him. Shit, the fall probably has worsened his already busted hips _(damn Wu Yifan!)._

“God, I hope I’m not,” was all that he managed to say, giving up on trying standing and sat there while holding his wrist. The young man clucked his tongue.

“It shouldn’t be like this. You’re not supposed to appear out of nowhere and tell him you love him again after nine years. That’s not how love works. He’s so close to his dream and you ruined it just after one night!” he said, almost yelling. Junmyeon assumed this young man was talking about Yifan, so he saved the pre-requisite questions like ‘who are you talking about?’ or ‘why the fuck would you care?’ Though the latter seemed appropriate enough.

 _But he said I was always a part of his dream_ , Junmyeon would like reciprocate. Because he didn’t like how he sounded like a huge wall in the middle of Yifan’s way.

“And to think he’s finally met Lu Han... gosh, you ruined _everything_. You’re a fucking life-wrecker,” he continued, voice raised by a notch, and Junmyeon blinked thrice.

Now _that_ was something that he didn’t have a clue about. Yifan missed the chance to tell him anything important since last night. Not about this raging young man and definitely not about _Lu Han_.

“He’s fucking not,” someone deadpanned, and the tall young man –was he already a man, anyway? He looked as if he was barely twenty – squealed in an unmanly manner as Yifan pushed him aside against the wall and walked past him to get to Junmyeon. He reached for Junmyeon’s left arm since Junmyeon was giving the gesture as if he wanted to be pulled up with that hand – hanging mid-way, princess like – but of course, Junmyeon was only scared if he made the injury worsened by moving it around. When Junmyeon breathed sharply through his teeth just to pull his hand away from Yifan’s, Yifan furrowed his brows and gently wrapped his fingers around Junmyeon’s forearm, careful not to move it too much.

“You’re definitely not okay,” Yifan sighed, and hooked his arm under Junmyeon’s to pull him up. The young man with scary eyes gaped a little when he saw how fast Junmyeon’s wrist turned blue, but he didn’t seem to be in shock.

“It’s not broken, stop exaggerating,” he said rudely, but maybe Yifan was shooting lasers from his eyes because that young man averted his eyes from Junmyeon and kept them fixed on his own shoes after that.

“Well he’s not even supposed to be hurt in the first place, if only _someone_ would just _listen_ to the _whole story_ ,” there’s another voice coming from the front door, voice probably a note lower than the young man, slightly squeaky. A brunette, definitely shorter than Yifan and the scary eyed but slightly muscular appeared, face of worried, and once again the young man was pushed against the wall. It was as if both Yifan and the brunette were pissed at the scary eyed, Junmyeon thought, or maybe it’s the swelling wrist talking.

Ah, pretty face. Maybe the scary eyed was comparing him with this pretty face inside his mind earlier.

“I’ll go get some ice. Yifan, go put him in the car. He’s going to need a proper treatment.” He should make a good captain for boy scouts. But Junmyeon didn’t really like the way he directly ran into the kitchen to get some ice and into the bathroom to fetch a hand towel. He looked comfortable enough inside Yifan’s house, and Junmyeon was strangely pissed that Yifan didn’t even care to mention about this brunette last night or this morning.

But his wrist was too swollen and he couldn’t find the strength to start their first fight after nine years, so Junmyeon didn’t say anything yet. He let Yifan led him towards his Jeep, seated him in the front seat and started the engine as he settled in the driver’s seat. It was a long minute of silence before he thought he should say something, because this was all too sudden and he was still having trouble digesting the whole situation. But Yifan started first.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve seen that coming,” he said, one hand reaching behind Junmyeon’s nape and that made him turn his head.

“Maybe an explanation last night could have been of some help,” Junmyeon tried to laugh it away, but instantly regretted his words because he could feel Yifan’s hand flinched behind him. Oh well, it wasn’t like he said something wrong. Yifan could’ve told him first if there’s any possibility that a crazy bastard will be storming into his house the next day before shoving his tongue (or his heart, in the matter of last night) down his throat.

“Yeah, maybe.” Yifan sounded hurt, or was he regretful? Junmyeon started to feel bad, but the next minute he didn’t because the pretty-faced brunette was already running out from the house carrying a towel bulging with small chunks of ice in his hands. Something dropped inside his chest, rolling around in his stomach, crushing every butterfly that was fluttering excitedly since the moment he saw Yifan again.

“Or probably two explanations,” he said, slowly. But Yifan heard that alright, because he didn’t say anything at all during their trip to the nearest hospital.

-

“How come a meeting with an old friend ends up in a hospital?” Yixing asked with one hand scratching the back of his head as soon as he found out where Junmyeon was sitting in the waiting area. Junmyeon had just come out from the doctor’s office; it wasn’t broken, but his wrist was casted to minimise its movement. Junmyeon gave him a small smile, and as always, Yixing wasn’t able to be mad at him once he saw it. Sighing, he ruffled his friend’s hair and took a seat next to him.

“And where’s your old friend?” he asked again after he was sure Junmyeon refused to answer his first one. Junmyeon shut his eyes and slightly leaned onto Yixing’s shoulder. It was only by then he realised that he was too fatigued – love affairs tend to drain all the energy out of him, as always – and all he wanted right there and then was a nap.

“He’s fetching the car.”

Yixing furrowed his brows.

“Then why am I _needed_?” he pulled out his phone and showed Junmyeon his own text message ten minutes ago. It was only by chance that he was having a meeting with a client just a few blocks away when he received the text.

“Currently, it would be for the best if I don’t see him for a while.” He said, almost whispering and Yixing knew immediately that something wasn’t right. Stretching his arm across Junmyeon’s shoulder, his fingers dug into his skin and he hoped it would give his friend some assurance that he was there, that he could lend an ear if he ever want to talk. Junmyeon understood, of course. They have been friends for years, ever since Yixing said hi to him on the first day he entered their old company so it would be impossible for him to miss that kind of concern.

“He’s not a very nice friend, huh?” he asked, jokingly as he turned to an angle to see Junmyeon’s face. He could see the shadows of Junmyeon’s eyelashes fell onto his cheeks, and Yixing had always thought that Junmyeon is indeed beautiful in a subtle way. Junmyeon chuckled and nodded. Pushing his head against Yixing’s shoulder and pulling away, he could hear his name being called and Yifan could be seen walking towards them with a dangerous expression. He could almost see some sparks raging out of his eyes, too.

“Where’s Lu Han?” Junmyeon asked, trying to distract him because honestly, he would really appreciate it if no harm is done on Yixing’s body and soul.

“Something came up so he left first. Who’s this?” he answered, not getting off track like Junmyeon wished he did, face not smiling and definitely not happy. Yixing stood up and offered a handshake, which was solemnly received by the tall unhappy guy.

“Zhang Yixing,” he said. His droopy eyes made him look calm enough even though he was putting up a tight smile on his face. There was something about this guy that was intimidating, and it wasn’t only just his height.

“Wu Yifan.”

“Actually, Yifan, the office is in a chaotic state right now because you know, end of month, the clients keep calling checking on deadlines and stuff so we need our Junmyeon to sort things out. I hope you wouldn’t mind if I take him to the office right away?” Yixing asked almost politely (not really, he was just being safe) because Junmyeon said he need to get away from this old friend, whoever he was, and he knew that’s why he was needed right then.

“Is that so? At this hour?” Yifan asked while peeking at his wristwatch – it was ten past six – a bit suspicious, but Yixing knew it wasn’t directed towards him. Junmyeon was looking at his fidgeting feet, trying his damnedest to ignore Yifan’s eyes that were drilling holes in his face.

“We’re just a private company with small workforce. So, should we get going, Junmyeon?” Yixing stepped in Yifan’s way, standing in front of Junmyeon like some kind of guard and Junmyeon was slightly relieved to see how understanding Yixing was of his situation. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on Yixing’s shoulder and nodded.

“We should,” he said, still not looking in Yifan’s way. Yixing bid Yifan goodbye and he could see how stiff he was as he nodded. His hands were fisted by his sides; veins were crawling vividly under the skin as he did so. They were only a few feet away when Yifan called out Junmyeon’s name.

“Don’t you try thinking of running, Junmyeon, because you don’t know half of the story yet,” he said, sounded more like a warning. Junmyeon took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder.

“That’s why,” he simply said, and kept on walking.

-

Yifan didn’t call Junmyeon that night, or the next day, and eventually for the whole week. Yifan knew, of course. Yifan understood the situation well, better than Junmyeon was. Junmyeon wouldn’t have the chance to calm down if he suddenly appeared out of nowhere, demanding to be heard. And he wouldn’t want to corner Junmyeon into a situation where he couldn’t avoid but to tell him what he thought or felt, because that would trigger Junmyeon an idea to find himself an escape plan. And escaping was Junmyeon’s specialty, the last time he checked.

“Call him now, and explain! He’s totally misunderstood about us!” Lu Han nagged at him while keeping his eyes on the road. It was high noon so a congested traffic filled with hungry citizens as drivers was to be expected, and Yifan chose the wrong day on weekend to wake up late for his signing event.

“There’s no use for that right now. He’s not pissed about finding out that you and I used to date; he’s dated more people than I did. Kim Junmyeon is far more complicated than that,” Yifan explained, leaning his head against the cold window and observed the cars lining up next to them.

“He must’ve been thinking whether it’s a good idea for me to still be in love with him even after nine years. Maybe he’s been thinking that there are just a lot of things that we don’t know about each other after all these years separated and he starts to feel stuffy, you know. He’s a lazy bum when it comes to attachments and love business,” he chuckled and then breathed against the glass window and drew a frowning smiley on the smoky cloud created by the mist of his breath. Lu Han sighed before he signalled to the left after he saw the next lane was getting clearer.

“Or he’s just misunderstood that we’re still dating. Maybe you’re thinking too much. You always do when it comes to attachments, you know? Experience wise; you always think that letting go is the right thing to do. What if Junmyeon wants you to actually force him, bind him to stay, no explanations needed, hm? What if you chased him to the end of the world as soon after he left nine years ago? Have you thought about that?” Lu Han nagged again, cursing the blue Sonata in front of them for cutting off without warning from the right.

“He’d still be running,” Yifan deadpanned.

“Then keep chasing. He’s worth the effort, isn’t he?” Lu Han said as he calmed down after the blue Sonata driver raised his hand as a sign of apology when he passed next to him.

“He is. Dear God, he’s worth everything that I’d die for,” Yifan said with a pair of twinkling eyes, as if Lu Han’s words triggered a new power switch inside of him. Lu Han smiled, and nodded.

“So there. But let’s get your signing event done first before you start chasing. You know I’m your publisher’s best editor first before your ex-boyfriend cum love doctor.” He said as the car finally exited the highway and into the street where the mall he had arranged to be Yifan’s book-signing event for this week was located.

“That you are, sir. That you are.”

-

Junmyeon was actually relieved that Yifan didn’t call him to explain anything for the first three days. He wouldn’t want to be cornered into a situation where he couldn’t escape unless he expresses his feelings to Yifan, and that was something that he was bad at doing the last time he checked. And he wouldn’t want to think about escaping Yifan again as another option; that’s a cowardly decision and he had enough days blaming himself for it.

On the fourth day, though, Junmyeon started to feel uneasy. He kept checking his inbox and every ringtone that was heard inside the two-storey studio office felt as if it was a call for him. He even brought his phone to the washroom, and hoped that it won’t ring while he was in there, because Lord, it would be very hard if Yifan suddenly called him during his business and having one hand casted right now wasn’t really helping the predicament.

“Just fucking call him,” Yixing said on the morning of the fifth day when he entered the office. Junmyeon couldn’t sleep the night before so he was early that morning, but his mind was not functioning so he decided to take a nap first on the Arabian-themed swing bed underneath the stairs that Byun Baekhyun, the landscape advisor bought using the extra budget they had last year. That didn’t work either, because he was still awake when Yixing peeked in between the gaps of the wooden stairs and offered him his Americano.

“I can’t,” he said dreadfully, grabbing the paper cup in Yixing’s hand and took a sip. He could hear Yixing’s Timberland boots click-clacking against the wooden floor above him; hanging his coat, throwing his briefcase onto his chair and pushing the unfinished paperwork to the sides of his desk before walking back towards the stairs to get down to him.

“Why can’t you?” he asked, sitting next to Junmyeon on the swing bed and took a big gulp of his mocha. Junmyeon sighed, and Yixing thought he looked five years older than his age.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“He’s an old friend; there are lots of things to be said.” Yixing said, pushing the floor with his feet and made the bed swing a little. Junmyeon chuckled and shut his eyes.

That’s the thing, if only Yifan was just an old friend, they would have a lot of things to talk about. Nine years of not seeing each other would be a normal thing; they would spend a night visiting bars and talking about the past, not the future. And then when the dawn came, they would exchange numbers and make promises to see each other again sometimes on weekends, and that would be it.

But no. They were not just friends, and Junmyeon didn’t want them to be.

“You’re running away again, Junmyeon. It’s really an unhealthy habit,” Yixing suddenly said, and that startled him a little bit. But really, when Junmyeon thought about it, Yixing was there through every breakup he had after Ah Jung, so it was only natural for him to make that kind of deduction.

“Now that’s harsh. You know me; I’m avoiding unwanted circumstances. Attachment has always been a trouble for me, and isn’t it natural for me to save myself?” he replied, brows furrowed and sucking on his lower lip. Yixing let out a small laugh, and patted his head.

“But this time, you want him, don’t you? You want him to make you stay, right?” Yixing asked carefully, as if he was asking to a child whether he wanted another candy or not. Junmyeon almost wanted to nod when Sehun, the young designer opened the door, and then seemed slightly irritated when he saw them both on the bed swing. Stomping his feet as he walked towards his desk, he threw his knapsack underneath his table and sat rather ferociously on his chair. Yixing solemnly sighed and Junmyeon didn’t really understand why.

“Junmyeon hyung, there’s someone outside. He said he wants to see you,” Sehun told him without looking, mindlessly arranging his slightly chaotic desk and Junmyeon wanted to ask who, but he didn’t seem to be in his best mood right now. Instead of asking, he thanked Sehun and walked to the front door. He was only a few steps away from the door when it swung open, and Junmyeon couldn’t help but feeling like he had been reeled into some kind of déjà vu; this time minus the long legs to threaten him.

“For a home-décor company, your office’s interior designing sure is tight on the budget,” said the young man with the scary eyes, and Junmyeon palmed the casted wrist almost intuitively.

-

“Are you here to break my other wrist?” Junmyeon asked, handing the young man a cup of tea as he sat down in front of him in the lounge. Yixing who went back to his desk were checking on them from upstairs, and Sehun didn’t seem like he could care enough about what’s happening in front of him. He did glance over a few times, though. Junmyeon felt safer because let’s be honest, if he was going to be murdered (or murder someone, God forbids) today, at least there’d be witnesses.

“I hope not,” the guest said calmly, sipping his tea and crossing one leg above the other.   Junmyeon laughed awkwardly and getting a little bit intense, because Lord knew whether this young man was telling the truth or not.

“I’m Zhitao, Yifan’s cousin. And don’t worry, I’m not here to apologise for the wrist,” he started, and for some odd reasons, Junmyeon didn’t really mind his rudeness. It felt as if some people did born to be rude and Zhitao, apparently, was one of them.

“Figured. So why are you here?” Junmyeon asked, getting a little calmer and leant into the backrest of his seat. Zhitao did the same, and nodded slowly.

“I believe you’ve met Lu Han.”

“I believe so too, yeah. Sorry I’m not as _pretty_ as he is,” Junmyeon tried to be cunning because apparently he was still uneasy now that he knew he was being compared to someone that used to be Yifan’s _somebody_.

Zhitao drew a sharp breath and held it in before he looked straight at Junmyeon.

“Then, you should know you’re not needed in this story.”

“Care to explain why?” Junmyeon decided that he didn’t have to feel guilty over some bad choices he made a few years ago. Instead, he believed he deserved a few explanations over the fucked up wrist, the confusion since they meet again and obviously as to why a stranger to his story with Yifan, namely Zhitao would think he had a say about his importance in Yifan’s life.

Zhitao made an uneasy face; surely he didn’t like the way Junmyeon’s voice turned authoritatively over him.

“Yifan’s supposed to fly to Paris five nights ago. They’re setting up a personal studio for him there because he just signed a contract with another international artist for a one-year exhibition at the Art Ludique. That’s one of his dreams and they actually worked really hard to seal the deal, Lu Han and him.” Zhitao’s voice tuned down, and even if he wanted to overlook it, Junmyeon couldn’t miss seeing the look of genuine concern on the younger man’s face.

“And?” he asked instead, didn’t want to let his guard down by some pity he had for someone who, for God’s sake, busted his working wrist. He was also trying to hide his shock, hearing that Yifan’s probably going to be away after this; no please not after he’s trying to pick up his heart and his courage to finally believe he actually deserved someone’s love without being asked for anything in return. Zhitao seemed disappointed to see Junmyeon wasn’t taking the bait.

“He’s cancelling the deal. He doesn’t want to go to Paris anymore, now that he’s found you. After all these years, you decided to come back at the most inconvenient moment,” Zhitao ran his hand through his thick black hair; this time Junmyeon couldn’t find even a single bit of hatred in his sentence, just genuine concerns for his beloved cousin.

“And... I thought that he finally deserves someone better. Someone who would stay with him through thick and thin – someone who would actually loves him... the way he loves you. Lu Han loves him, you know?” Zhitao asked him rhetorically, and Junmyeon almost answer _‘yes Zhitao I fucking know!’_ Fortunately he didn’t.

“They’ve tried dating once, but it didn’t work because Yifan said he saw you in everything Lu Han did, and it wouldn’t be fair to him. But I want them to be together. Yifan should get out of this country, away from you and all your goddamn memories!” his voice finally raised back by a notch, and Junmyeon was actually relieved to know this conversation wasn’t going to be another tear-jerking experience because he really hated crying.

He didn’t take long after Zhitao’s story was finished to let out his thoughts.

“I understand your concerns for him. Believe me, Wu Yifan is one of the most impulsive bastards I’ve ever met in my life, apart from that guy over there,” he pointed at Yixing who was still eavesdropping from his desk. Yixing grunted when he discovered that he was caught, and finally started doing his work. Sehun still seemed pissed.

“I’ll talk to him about Paris. It’s stupid of him – no, it’s stupid of anyone to let go of such an opportunity just for the sake of someone else. I wouldn’t want to be the reason why he wake up in the middle of the nights later when he’s older, regretting every single decision he didn’t make. Trust me, I’ve been there.” He said with a smile, and Zhitao seemed to be relaxed with his words. Yixing who was actually still listening nodded in agreement, because he knew Zhitao was already caught inside Junmyeon’s web of complete obedience; a talent that only a certain people possessed. His words, his smile and his gestures were entrancing people to listen to whatever his requests were, and Yixing himself had fallen for the tricks more than thrice.

Damn it.

“But Zhitao, I cannot make him fall out of love with me.”

Zhitao’s eyes were unique (re: scary); they’re not too big or too small, but deep and if seen from an angle, it was as if they’re a bit sticking toward the sides of his face. Not that he wasn’t attractive, though—his long legs, tanned skin, thin lips and pretty fingers were enough description to tell anyone how not unattractive he is. Not to mention his height (fuck it, it’s not like there’s no one shorter than Junmyeon). But Junmyeon could guarantee that Zhitao wouldn’t need a facelift surgery on the eyes, because as soon as he heard Junmyeon’s last response to his request, the size of his eyes grew three times than normal, and his face turned red.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t. Not when I’ve told him I would stay; it won’t be that easy to make a promise like that and then take it back.”

“So you’re saying that you love him?”

“So it seems.”

“That’s preposterous. You can’t really be in love with him. Ever since I was told about your existence, Kim Junmyeon, never once in my life had I thought you could possibly be in love with him more than he is with you,” Zhitao chided, pretty-shaped eyebrows wiggled as he shifted his legs, clearly getting uncomfortable in his seat. Junmyeon could also see his knuckles turned white; fisting the armrests of the chair he was sitting on.

“And what pushed you to that conclusion?” he asked, very curious (and a bit hurt) but trying to look very subtle at the same time.

Tough job.

“I think it’s self-explanatory.” Zhitao uncrossed his legs and leant forward, elbows on knees and the back of his hands cradling his sharp chin. A malicious grin appeared on his face, and Junmyeon could feel his strength from earlier flowed out from every hole and pore ever present on his body.

“I don’t think that applies to me. I’m a very forward person, Zhitao. I don’t understand syntaxes.” Zhitao narrowed his eyes, and his smile gone.

“It was a long time for him to accept Lu Han into his life after you’re gone, and there was not one single person after Lu Han then. How many have you got after Yifan?”

 _That doesn’t count! And it’s none of your business anyways!_ Junmyeon would love to scream at the pretty boy in front of him, but he held it in, because Zhitao had a point there. If they were comparing the numbers right now, anyone would’ve said that Junmyeon was at loss here. Somehow, some time ago, somebody died and made it a rule so that nobody can really trust someone who had been going out with more than one partner in their life.

Junmyeon would like to dig up that person’s grave and spit on their face.

“Quite a list, actually. Sadly, I was very bad at sleeping alone,” Junmyeon said instead, pulling every little pieces of strength left inside his body and plastered them together as a calm, collected face that could still smile at Zhitao’s snark.

“And even I think this sound cheap and pretentious, but it’s been years since the last time I’ve slept with someone for pleasure...well, except for a few nights ago, with Yifan. However, it was very nice of you to actually dig that up before coming to me, despite the fact that this is only the first time we’re talking without you trying to put me six feet under. I appreciate the effort.” Junmyeon continued, and Zhitao lost his words.

“I love Wu Yifan. I always have, since the moment he held my hand in the café where we first met. But he was going too fast with his pace and I was held back with all my setbacks and ego, and I became scared of the possibilities. He was ready to move forward with us, but I wasn’t, so I let him go.

But meeting him again, and knowing that he wasn’t even hating me for abandoning him; I thought that he might be for me after all. Maybe this is how our relationship will be. Maybe I will always be the one running inside my rusty armour, and he will always be the one chasing after me, picking up all the pieces I left behind.” Junmyeon spoke again, but this time it was more with himself instead of Zhitao.

“You’re selfish.” Zhitao muttered underneath his breath, and Junmyeon snapped out from his monologue, smiling at the accusation.

“You’re so selfish. You drag countless strangers into your life and become your lovers, toying with their hearts, making them think that their thoughts and suggestions are important, that _they_ are important; and then you toss them away. Ah, you know whom you resemble? Yifan! Like how Yifan is with his comics. Brainstorming session my ass! In the end he keeps dissing other’s ideas and stick to his first ones.” He mumbled, angry and hopeless as he gathered his bag, preparing to leave. Junmyeon chuckled; he could see now that zhitao is still only a kid.

“But you stay with him, don’t you? Your ideas got tossed away, but you still wait for his next updates in silence, right, zhitao? It’s the same thing with me. I wanted to know who’s staying. From all those people I was in love with, nobody did, except him. How do you expect me to let go of someone who chose to wait for me for nine years, and still staying?” he asked, rhetorically though, because he could see the answer like a moonlight on zhitao’s face.

“You’re both idiots,” was zhitao’s last sentence before he stormed out the front door, angry stiff shoulders and stomping long legs disappeared as he turned around the corner.

-

It wasn’t until three days after the rather docile meet-up with zhitao that Yifan finally rang him up at midnight, and Junmyeon was already at his doorstep when he answered the call. He then could hear Yifan’s heavy footsteps clambering down the stairs, and as soon as the door opened, Junmyeon was swept by the memory of nine years ago almost immediately.

A dishevelled-haired Yifan with his dorky, thick-rimmed glasses and stubbles that grew whenever he forgot about the time and day. Junmyeon remembered this Yifan very well; he could still feel the ticklish sensation on his nape whenever this Yifan slowly climbed into bed after his manuscripts were sent and approved, looking for a bed with his beloved in it in order to recharge himself.

Junmyeon didn’t realised he missed this Yifan very much until he actually saw him again.

“H-hey.” Yifan tried to start first, but Junmyeon thought they really didn’t have the time or even the need to have such thing as greetings at this point of their relationship, so instead of reciprocating the awkward ‘hi’s, he stepped into the opened door, fisted the front of Yifan’s shirt and pulled him closer with his good hand, before tip-toeing a little and unexpectedly head-butted his lover’s chin as hard as he could that Yifan fell a few steps back.

“That’s what you get for pulling me into this mess you created, when I clearly was doing fine on my own,” Junmyeon said with a stoic expression, and while Yifan was trying to regain his balance because anyone who just got head-butted by their own lover would be losing their grasp of the world, Junmyeon pulled him in again. Yifan instinctively covered his reddening chin, ready for another attack from the smaller guy.

But all that Junmyeon did was kissing him.

Now Yifan remembered how he liked kissing Junmyeon after a fight, because Junmyeon fought like a grown up would always do in a relationship. He stated the reasons why he was mad, he calmly told Yifan where he did wrong, and then he would take some moment of silence to compose himself. During these moments of silence, he was untouchable. He would still be around the house, near Yifan, preparing his meals if he had the time, but Yifan could never touch him—he’d never let Yifan touch him. Yifan tried to do so once, and Junmyeon didn’t yell at him or hit him (and he was grateful for that), but he politely asked Yifan to keep their distance with a disappointed expression on his face. As if Yifan was a child instead of a lover.

But then when he finally stopped being mad, he would slowly let Yifan in again. Subtle touches on Yifan’s fingers, playful pokes on cheeks, small pinches on wrists. And when Yifan finally got the hint, they would kiss, and Junmyeon would let out a sigh of relief. As if he was the one who suffered worse, when it was Yifan who was constantly on the verge of crying at the thought of losing him.

“You said you put me as a part of your plan, Yifan. A coincidence, but you said I was a part of your plan.” Junmyeon breathed against his lips, eyes wide opened and corneas bloomed as he looked up, in search for Yifan’s face. Yifan didn’t let his search goes to waste.

“A big part of my plan. Someone I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. And nobody was able to fill that part up when you were gone, not even Lu Han.” He kissed him again, this time slower but longer, because he started to feel the impact of Junmyeon’s attack earlier on his jaw. As if sensing that Yifan was in pain, Junmyeon took step back and held him by the shoulders, and Yifan grunted softly as they parted.

“If my existence is such of importance in your life, then how could you think that I wouldn’t know about France?” Junmyeon asked him with a low voice, almost a whisper. His eyes were fixed on Yifan, but this time they weren’t trying to tell him that he was wrong. They weren’t trying to tell him that Junmyeon was disappointed in him for concealing the fact from him. Junmyeon’s eyes were just _inquiring_. They were just curious about him, about someone that he loved. And Yifan felt safe; for the first time, after their fight, he felt _safe_.

He’s not the only one teetering on the edge, worrying that this could be it, this could be the fight the will end everything. This could be the fight that’ll mark how unstable this relationship had been; how deeply and devastatingly one-sided his love had been.

Junmyeon was not going to leave him again, even after he spilt out everything. Junmyeon had asked, because he wanted to _fix_ everything. He wanted for this love to _work_ , he wanted to _stay_.

 _Junmyeon wanted to stay,_ and this fact illuminated the conversation they were having like a full moon in the darkest night; bright, silent, appreciated and worshipped.

“It’s apparent, isn’t it? I don’t want to lose you again. Going to France means that I have to live another year without you. And I have had enough of your absence. I’m done trying to pretend I am okay without being with the person I wanted to be with the most. And what if while I’m gone, you think that this is just another mistake again? That I’m not the one that you want after a—” Yifan was stopped when Junmyeon’s good hand cupped his face, eyes wet with tears that were threatening to fall.

“Oh, Yifan. I’m sorry—I’m so very fucking sorry I make you feel this way. I’m sorry,” he whispered and pulled Yifan into a tight hug. Junmyeon’s hand was surprisingly manly for his small body; that was the first thought that came to Yifan’s mind as he soaked up the warmth from his lover. Junmyeon had always been warm, that was why the memories of them cuddling together during winter nights had been nothing but delightful to him.

“I love you.”

It felt like the time stopped for a moment. And then a heartbeat so loud came from his chest, Yifan thought every vein in his body was going to explode. And then he felt a wave of emotions came over him; bittersweet, soothing, assuring, safe.

“I love you, and I promise you; I’m not going anywhere. Not for another day, or another year. And God forbids if we are going to live forever, then it sucks to be you because I will never, ever leaving you again,” Junmyeon told him, laughing as tears finally falling down his cheeks, and Yifan wondered how beautiful this person he is in love with could be.

“So go. Leave me here and make your dreams come true. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be patiently waiting for you, like what you’ve been doing for the past nine years. I’ll come and visit you there when the gallery opens. I’ll bring you flowers and snacks you’re going to miss so much from Korea. Let’s have dates around Paris when we have the time. I’ll kiss you at the airport before my flight back home. And then I’ll wait for you to come back, and when you are, let’s go have a brunch date at your friend’s café. We can force him to put up new batch of your art on his walls, and we’ll thank him for being a part of our love story.” Junmyeon planned, and Yifan nodded and kissed the top of his head.

“Okay,” he said. “I’d love to do all that with you.”

“Okay,” Junmyeon replied, and kissed him on his still-sore chin.

“Thank you for being the bigger man, Junmyeon. I love you, too. I always have. Will always do.”

-

“I guess he changed his mind.”

“Zhitao, shut up!” Lu Han aimed to jab zhitao’s chest with his elbow (which could puncture his lungs but probably not strong enough to kill him), but he missed it when the younger man swiftly moved to his left.

“No, I mean, look. He’s not even answering his phone, and instead of waiting for you at the airport _like he promised_ , you’re the one that ends up on the waiting part, _again._ Don’t you just see the game he’s playing?” zhitao tried again, this time with lesser hatred thrown into his words and probably just a huge lump of sympathy dripping from his voice. Either ways, Yifan just wanted him to shut his pie-hole.

“It’s okay. I suppose I did something stupid the last time we met... I think.”

Zhitao rolled his eyes.

“Preposterous.”

Last month when Junmyeon visited him for three days in Paris after the finale of his exhibition, they were having the times of their lives. He took him to the diner place at the top of the Eiffel tower even though height isn’t his best friend because Junmyeon wanted to try it, and it had been so long since the last time he saw Junmyeon that excited (of course, the sex back at the hotel was exciting as well, and that’s not just because he got to bury Junmyeon in petals of roses for his inspiration the next morning). They had breakfast the next morning at the small local café right in front of the apartment Yifan was renting, and they had kissed and held hands without either of them wanting to be the first to let go. To be honest, Yifan didn’t even remember what they had for breakfast.

The morning before Junmyeon flight back to Korea, took him to his favourite thinking spot alongside the Seine, just a couple of blocks away from the back entrance of the gallery. Junmyeon had laughed when he slipped and fell on a small puddle of water and for a brief moment, Yifan had thought that he wanted to be in a time loop of this exact moment if it means he would get to see Junmyeon being so happy and carefree about him, about them. No more thoughts of running away, of suiting each other. Of trying to be the bigger one in this relationship. Of trying to put everything into perspective. Just them, being together and in love.

When Junmyeon pulled him up (with tears in his eyes and small chuckles accompanying his words), Yifan took a good amount of time of admiring his lover’s small hands. He then wondered what would have happened if he didn’t get to see Junmyeon’s hands first ten years ago? What if, by some great cosmic jokes Junmyeon happened to be born without hands? Or worse, was not even born in Korea? Would they still meet and fall in love?

“You know,” he started as Junmyeon was wiping a few splashes of mud off his face, “even if you were not born in Korea, or have any hands, or not born in this timeline, I would still defy any logic just to have you with me, again and again and again, till eternity.”

Junmyeon laughed again, and palmed his face with both hands.

“If I wasn’t born a Korean, I doubt you’d even know if I exist. And since my hands are your kink, you wouldn’t even take a look at me if I don’t have any. Different timeline? I could be a King, and you could be my enemy, for all we know.” Yifan took Junmyeon’s hands into his, and brought them to his lips.

“I’m sure my heart and head would still find a way to be in love with you again.” Junmyeon laughed again, this time slower and quieter.

“But I like this timeline. I like this silly obsession of yours over my hands, and I like being born as a Korean. I like being in love with you like this, right now. And even if in another universe we’re not lovers, I’m sure we’ll still be connected somehow. But that’s for the other us to worry about. In this universe, _you_ love _me_ , and I, you.” he said, this time being the one who was pulling Yifan’s hands and kissing them gently.

“Then, be married to me.”

“What?” Junmyeon tried to mask his surprise, but his voice cracked and that didn’t help at all.

“Let’s get married, you and I. In this timeline, in this universe, you with these beautiful hands, you as a Korean. Let’s get married and add to the variables of this universe we’re in.”

“Yifan, if you’re planning another comic with this alternate universes ideas please let me know beforehand. I’d like to not being dragged without my knowledge to be a part of it—”

“NO! No it’s nothing like that at all, although now that you’ve mentioned it I might as well keep that in mind... but no. No, this isn’t work at all. I just... want you to be mine.” His voice faltered, and slowly, he let go of Junmyeon’s hands. There was a stillness to the air around them as they both were thinking of what should be said next. But Yifan was waiting for an answer, and Junmyeon, from the way he was silently fidgeting the longer they were standing near to each other like this, seemed reluctant to give him one.

“Hey.” Yifan said after it took Junmyeon too long to respond, pulling his lover’s hands toward his chest and kept them near.

“We still have a few hours left before your flight. Let’s have some coffee, okay?”

Junmyeon had nodded, and Yifan took a deep breath of relief.

-

“It’s been an hour, Yifan. I’m not saying zhitao is right, but maybe he’s caught up with something at work and can’t find his time to tell you about it,” Lu Han tried to reason, and Yifan reluctantly agreed. Zhitao had left earlier after a call, saying there was an emergency at work and he was needed there. Yifan couldn’t think of any emergency that would need zhitao to be there when zhitao doesn’t really have a work (because apparently being a rich heir to a fashion empire means he just need to look pretty and be exceptionally sassy, at least in his case) except being an avid fan-cum-proofreader of his artworks.

“Can you get me to the studio first? I want to check on the work materials I sent from France, in case any of them were damaged during delivery. After that let’s get some dinner.”

“Okay,” Lu Han said as he pulled Yifan’s luggage behind him and picked up a call at the same time. He was discussing about Yifan’s draft ideas on the next project they had agreed on trying with someone at the other end of the line, and Yifan had only given him the rough sketches of it less than half an hour ago.

Lu Han really knows how to do his work well, Yifan had agreed.

-

Lu Han left first for a meeting, and said he’d come by after an hour or so to pick Yifan up for dinner.

The boxes were left in front of the door, and from the forms plastered on top of each boxes, they had arrived just a day prior to Yifan’s return. Most of them were just books and old comics and rough sketches and pictures of places he would use as references later on, but a couple of boxes were filled with his drawing utensils and he’d like to have them all in the same condition they were packed in.

He didn’t expect to also find Junmyeon squatting in front of the door in between the boxes, with bloodshot eyes and a red nose, wrapped in a bundle of thick blanket.

“Junmyeon? What are you doing here? I thought you were at work so—” Yifan didn’t get to finish his sentence as Junmyeon pulled him in for a tight hug when he squatted down to see his lover.

“I wasn’t working. I had- had a sudden fever and passed out at work yesterday and I thought I didn’t want to tell you since you’d be busy packing. I- I slept past your arrival and- and then zhitao came to get me... and then he dropped me here instead. Where is here, anyways?” he asked, eyes hazy and lips trembling. Yifan wanted to laugh to his lovers’ lost expression but he guess he was rather relieved instead, so he reciprocated the hug with a kiss on Junmyeon’s temple.

I need to thank zhitao later, he reminded himself. But on another note; such tsundere, that cousin of him.

“My working studio. It’s cold out here so let’s get inside first.” He lifted Junmyeon with one arm and was rather surprised to find out how much weight Junmyeon had lost in less than a month since they’ve last seen each other.

“Have you been eating well lately?” he asked as he laid Junmyeon onto the sofa bed that had always been his makeshift bed whenever he was too lazy to go home after deadlines were met. Junmyeon coughed a little before nodded, although he looked a little guilty.

“Junmyeon...” Yifan wanted to start nagging, because he knew how bad Junmyeon could be at managing his eating schedule whenever he was busy working, but Junmyeon stopped him with another hug, and he just didn’t have the heart to let him go. Also, he thought that zhitao might have done the deed on his way driving Junmyeon here.

“Sorry I didn’t get to welcome you properly, even though I promised you I’d be there.” Junmyeon said against his chest, and Yifan patted his hair, consoling him.

“It’s alright. I’m just glad that you weren’t... it’s okay. I’m just glad that you’re here now.”

Junmyeon coughed again, and then took a deep, deep breath. He knew Yifan was scared to bring up what happened in Paris, and to be honest, he was, too. But then he had spent the last nine years being scared of something he hadn’t tried hard enough to reach for, and Junmyeon thought this was the time to face the issue head on.

“The thing you asked me in Paris, just before my flight back here... can I give you the answer now?”

Yifan swallowed the lump he didn’t realised had been accumulating at the back of his throat, and nodded nervously.

“I like having you as my significant other in this universe; you who like my hands for whatever reasons you like them, you who found me in this country and you who made me realised how great it feels to be loved no matter how bad I am doing as a lover. You who waited for me to be ready for nine fucking years and still willing to wait for a few hours more only to be greeted by a sick me.” Yifan laughed at that and Junmyeon playfully pouted.

“But then, marrying you means we’re taking this thing to a whole new level. It’s like everything will be official. We’re bounded to the laws of this universe, and even though we’ll be doing just exactly what we’re doing now, it’s different. We’ll be each other’s’ husbands instead of just lovers.” He palmed Yifan’s face when he saw the sad expression starting to creep on his lover’s face.

He wondered about how many times Yifan’s face had had this expression in the times they were separated. He wondered about what a loser he was for letting Yifan to have this kind of expression painted on his face when all Yifan wanted was to be by his side.

“So, what I’m trying to say is... please, be my husband.”

“What?” Yifan’s voice trembled greatly, and Junmyeon could feel his tears were threatening at the edges of his sore eyes. He then pulled out the black box he had been hiding inside his blanket since earlier and opened it in front of Yifan. There were two rings inside, both made with black onyx with sterling silver linings on the sides but of obviously different sizes.

“Marry me and let’s add to the variables of us in this universe, okay?”

Yifan smiled and nodded, and impatiently tried to pull out the ring to put it on Junmyeon’s finger, but the latter stopped him with a cluck of tongue.

“Let me do this right,” he said as he pulled Yifan’s left hand and put the ring on his lover’s finger, and kissed Yifan’s hand as if he was a prince who had only got his princess (or prince, in this case) after a long-fought battle with fiery dragons.

Yifan put the other ring on Junmyeon’s finger, and did the same as Junmyeon. _At last_ , he thought.

_At long last, I got you again_

They both thought, and then they kissed.

(and now all they had to do is get Junmyeon better and find a place for their private wedding ceremony, like any normal couple would after a marriage proposal that went really well)

 

**End.**


End file.
